Breaking Point
by pretzzell
Summary: 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers. AU, set after 3.17 Stowaway
1. And Then There Were Three

**Breaking Point  
><strong>**Written by: **Addie Price  
><strong>Summary: <strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,562  
><strong>Note:<strong> To those of you who were reading my other fic, 'Home' I am very apologetic. I don't know what happened; I simply lost all inspiration for it. I may continue it someday in the future, however this story right now is my focus. To those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, that's okay. This fic is set after 3.17 Stowaway, however I may reference the previews for 3.19 Lysergic Acid Diethylamide in the hopefully not too distant future. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

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><p>"You can't forget who you are, Olivia. You can't forget where you're from."<br>- _Peter Bishop _

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><p>A ring of a bell. A moment of confusion. A short fight. A loss. And just like that, a third person was living inside her mind.<p>

William Bell's entrance to her psyche wasn't nearly as brutal or damaging as her doppelganger's. He wasn't forced into her mind with injections and drugs, his memories weren't rooted into hers. No, he had slipped into her consciousness as easily as a passing thought as his soul was joined with the magnet inside her.

But the mind is made for one only, not three.

So it was when the third entered Olivia Dunham's mind that it began to break down. It was the third that destroyed her mind and tore her psyche apart. It was the third that landed her in the mental hospital where Peter doesn't know whom he'll face when he visits each day.

He drops his keys and phone and belt into the tray offered by the orderly. The young nurse smiles at him before unlocking the door that leads to the hall that leads to Olivia's cell. She's been a danger to herself since she arrived and anything that could be used as a weapon mustn't go past the hallway to her room.

The walls are white, the floor pearly. Walter stopped visiting a while ago; he couldn't bear the sight of her in a mental institute, couldn't stand to see her so broken. Astrid still visits every once in a while with Peter and Rachel is there almost every single day. Ella hasn't seen her aunt since before she was institutionalized; her mother refuses to let her see Olivia this way.

The orderly smiles softly at Peter as she unlocks the door to Olivia's cell and waves him through. Sounds become muffled as he enters, the padding on the walls and ceiling and floor absorbing any excess noise.

Peter vaguely wonders who he'll be facing today.

Her hair is braided, beginning at the crown of her skull in a French braid and them continuing down her back in a basic plait. She turns to face him as he enters.

He knows the instant he looks into her eyes. It isn't her.

"Peter Bishop." Her voice is filled with disdain. "So nice to see you again." It isn't hard to tell she thinks it's anything but.

He nods at her. "And you too."

"Tell me, Peter. How are things going on your side. Have we destroyed you yet?"

He keeps his distance. This type of meeting usually turns violent. "Look around, Dunham. You're living there. You tell me."

She gives a sharp laugh, the sound sending shivers down his side. "Still looks like hell to me, Bishop."

He wishes that he could at least have Bell today if he couldn't have Olivia.

"What happened with the war, Bishop? Did we lose?"

Peter shrugs. They've had this conversation before."Nobody won, nobody lost. You know that, Dunham."

She smiles slowly at him, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes. They never did with her. "I know. I just like to hear you say it. To admit that you failed."

"We didn't. We never wanted to destroy your world. We just wanted to save ours."

She moves closer, her smile widening dangerously. "I wasn't talking about your world, Peter. I was talking about Olivia."

It's strange, to see her talking about herself as if she's somebody different. He has to remind himself that she is; this isn't Olivia Dunham speaking, it's her alternate, planted firmly in her mind.

He flinches as her arm brushes his, reaching up to his throat. "It would be so easy," she whispers. He scoots backwards to find nothing but wall behind him and presses himself up against that, trying to get as far away from her as possible. She trails a hand along the side of his neck. "I was trained so well. Just a quick jab," she makes the motion, swiping at his neck. He flinches. "And I could kill you. Crush your windpipe. Just. Like. That."

He stares down at her, defiance radiating from him. He doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of his fear, but in all honesty, he isn't scared for himself. He's afraid for Olivia. How much damage could this woman, this monster, do in her mind? How much has she already done?

All of a sudden, Olivia pulls away from him, tucking her hand against her chest. Her gaze drops and she stares at the floor, gasping as if she's just sprinted the mile. She raises her eyes to his and he can see that they've darkened. "Peter?"

Relief fills him. She drops to her bed and wraps her arms around herself, clutching herself as if her embrace is the only thing keeping her together. "She was going to hurt you, Peter. I saw it. She was going to hurt you and I couldn't let that happen."

Peter crosses the room to sit by her side, resting a hand on her knee. "Shh, Liv. She's gone now. She isn't going to hurt anyone."

Olivia begins to rock back and forth as if she can't hear him. "She's fighting me, Peter. It's getting cold."

He knows what this means, but he doesn't want this moment to end. "Can you keep her away?"

"It's not her."

She drops her arms and shuts her eyes. When she opens them, they are considerably lighter, closer to gray than green. And when she speaks, her voice is different. It deepens slightly and she speaks in a slower, wiser rhythm. "Hello, Peter. Tell me, how is your father?"

He breathes a sigh of relief that it's not Olivia's doppelganger and moves to sit next to him. "He's not doing well, William. He's taken yo-er, Olivia's institutionalization hard. It reminds him of when he was in a mental hospital."

William sighs. "I can imagine. And I bet he blames himself for this, no?"

"He thinks that if he hadn't triggered the magnet then this never would've happened."

"If he hadn't triggered the magnet then we never would've won the war."

Peter takes a deep breath. "I know. But I wish this never would've happened either."

William places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "So do I. But it was a war, Peter. And every war has it's casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer."

The two sit silently for a few minutes before William removes his hand from Peter's shoulder. Peter looks at him, taking in his crestfallen face. "She's not doing well, is she?" he asks, fearing the answer.

"No, Peter, she isn't. It was hard enough for her to keep Fauxlivia from surfacing before my soul entered her mind. She's getting weaker. I've been fighting Fauxlivia for her, but I'm not sure how much longer we'll last against her. Whatever drugs they used to plant the Other Olivia's memories in Olivia's mind are strong; she's taken a deep hold here. It will take much more than our wills to uproot her."

Peter looks away, dropping his gaze to his hands as they twine themselves in his lap. "Walter's been trying to come up with a solution. But he can't think of anything."

"He needs my help, Peter. He needs to come here, to see me."

Peter shook his head. "He won't. He refuses."

Suddenly, William's hands are on his shoulders; he's kneeling in front of him, his eyes desperate. "You have to get him here, Peter. I can't leave."

Peter's hands grip William's. For a moment, for just a moment, he forgets that this isn't Olivia. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Her eyes clear, a single burst of confusion and clarity filling them. "Peter?"

And he knows that William Bell has relinquished control, has given Olivia her mind, and body, back. He knows that William will fight to keep Fauxlivia at bay for as long as he can, will give him these moments with her. It's rare for Peter to see her twice in one day.

"Olivia?"

She leans forward, embracing him. "Oh, Peter."

He hugs her back, pulling her against him and burying his head into her shoulder as she begins to weep. "Olivia," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Oh, thank God, it's really you."

"She's too strong, Peter. I-I don't think I can fight her anymore."

He pulls back and holds her at arm's length. He speaks in low, serious tones, his voice strong. "You have to Olivia. You can't give in to her. I already lost you to her, to them once. I'm not going to let that happen again. Walter and I will find a way to get her out."

"And what about William?"

"William won't fight you for control. He's a peaceful resident, not a violent one. You won't have to worry about him.

"And John?"

If he would've been standing, he would've stumbled. "John? John's back?"

Olivia nods, tears streaming down her face. "He says he wants to help me, Peter, but I don't know. I don't know if I can trust him. I don't know if he means what he says. I just don't know."

Peter hushes her and pulls her in tight again. "It'll be okay, Olivia. I promise." And as he tightens his grip again, he promises her and himself that he'll never let go.


	2. Four Is A Crowd

**Breaking Point  
><strong>**Written by: **Addie Price  
><strong>Summary: <strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,050  
><strong>Note: <strong>A big thanks to padmay97, Starlight77, noz4a2, o0MissBennet0o, MadeOfStars and 7 for their kind reviews. I really appreciate it! Because this story has received such good feedback, I am posting the next chapter tonight. Normally I wouldn't do this, but you guys who faved this and reviewed (especially those who reviewed) encouraged me to post this tonight. If more people review, I will be more motivated to update sooner!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

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><p>"If you were going insane, you'd likely have no idea what's happening."<br>- _Walter Bishop _

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><p>The door to the lab slams open. Astrid jumps at the noise but Walter remains complacent, milking Gene with an air of calmness that none of them should be allowed to enjoy. Angry footsteps make their way over to him and he can tell that Peter's visit to Olivia did not go well. He asks anyways, despite his better judgment.<p>

"Peter! Glad to see your back. How is Olivia today?" He carefully avoids Peter's gaze.

The anger in his son's voice is thick. "Not good, Walter. What are you doing?"

"Today's milking day," Walter answers calmly. Gene moos in agreement.

Peter slams a fist into the wall of Gene's pen. Walter jumps and looks up at Peter. "You need to find a way to get Bell and Fauxlivia out of her. Before anymore damage is done."

Walter turns back to Gene to resume her milking. "Olivia's fine, Peter. I spoke with her the last time I saw her; she's a strong girl, she'll be able to pull through this."

Peter takes a step to meet Walter and grabs the shoulder of his lab coat, turning his father roughly towards him. "She is not fine, Walter. You haven't seen her in three months because you're too damn scared to step inside the hospital!"

"Peter!" Astrid's voice is sharp and stern. She's the only one who's remained relatively sane throughout this whole thing. And so it's come to her to be the voice of reason when things get out of hand.

Peter releases his father and takes a step back, his chest heaving. He leaves Gene's pen, running his hands through his hair as he begins to pace the lab. Astrid watches him helplessly, barely noticing Walter as he comes to her side.

"He's stressed," Walter observes, chewing idly on a gummy worm.

"We all are, Walter," Astrid replies, her patience wearing thin. "We can't work without Olivia here. Even when Bell had control, she still kept us together. Now we're tearing apart at the seams."

She waits a moment for a reply before turning to the older man. "Walter?"

"Sorry, Asteroid. Did you say something?"

Astrid sighs, turning to watch Peter continue his pacing. "Walter, do you have any idea about how to get Fauxlivia and Bell out of Olivia's body?"

Walter shakes his head. "No, dear. I'm afraid I don't. I was hoping that if we were able to find a suitable host for Belly then it wouldn't be too difficult to remove him from Olivia's consciousness. However, I never expected Fauxlivia to return. If only I could figure out how Walternate planted her memories in our Olivia in the first place, then I should be able to find a way to reverse the composition and remove the same memories from her mind. To return her to herself."

They've been too involved in their conversation to notice that Peter has stopped and is standing near them know, listening to Walter's every word with a keen interest.

"If we can't remove Bell and Fauxlivia from her mind," Peter begins, his words heavy. He raises his eyes to look at Walter and for the first time he sees the toll this ordeal has taken on his son. His face is heavy, his eyes sunken from lack of sleep and dark circles under his eyes. He can see the weariness of the past few months etched into every line on his son's face, weaving themselves into a story of such heart-wrenching sadness and loss that he feels his own heart go out farther than it has ever gone before in his less-than-empathetic life.

"Peter.." He reaches out for his son but Peter's hardening eyes stops him.

"If we can't remove Bell and Fauxlivia from her mind, we'll lose her forever."

Silence descends over them. Moments pass until Peter speaks again, his voice soft, all the anger gone, replaced by a weariness that Walter finds difficult to comprehend. "John Scott is back."

Astrid's head snaps up, her eyes widening in concern and confusion. "Agent John Scott?" Peter nods. "But-he's dead. How can he be back?"

Walter understands; he knew that John's mind was around long after the man was dead, that he had been the first to implant himself in Olivia's mind. He had begun the process that led to the breaking point caused by Bell. He speaks, offering a small respite for his son. "John's memories were the first implanted in Olivia's mind. I had thought she expelled him completely after discovering that he was a traitor and after his death; evidently, I was wrong."

Silence envelops them once more. Walter retreats to his microscopes and test tubes and experiments while Peter drops into the chair near her computer. She looks between the two of them, their morose expressions and defeated postures. After another moment of silence, she feels a resolve build within her. She straightens, hands curling into bold fists at her sides. She's sat around watching these two mope for far too long while Olivia wasted away within the confines of her bleach-white cell.

"Enough!" The two men jerk their heads up to stare at her, startled. It's rare to see Astrid express much emotion, much less anger. "Your moping around the lab isn't going to do Olivia any good. Peter, you need to stop blaming Walter and instead try being productive and help him." Walter stares at Astrid and shock as she reprimands his son before she turns on him. "And Walter, you're no better. I get it that you don't like mental facilities, but this is Olivia we're talking about. She did plenty of things that she didn't like for you. And you can't do this for her, not even to save her life? You two are pathetic."

Peter and Walter watch her with the same dumb-founded expressions as she turns away from them and marches into Olivia's office, pulling out her cell to presumably call Broyles about this latest development in Olivia's rapidly deteriorating health.

The two Bishops stare at each other for another moment, jaws slack as they process what she had said to them. Peter is the first to recover; he turns to the computer behind him, an idea forming in his mind as he searches the FBI database. "Walter, come here. I have an idea."


	3. Fix You

**Breaking Point  
>Written by: <strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,792  
><strong>Note: <strong>A huge thanks shoutout to 7, Starlight77, noz4a2, o0MissBennet0o and MadeOfStars for their continued reviews and to fox4mel and castleisbomb for their reviews! You guys have no idea how much your words mean to me!

I know that some of my characters may be getting a little OOC, but this is just the way I envision they would possibly act after everything they've all gone through. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.

**IMPORTANT:** When I originally wrote this chapter, I included Agent Amy Jessup in it. I rewrote it, but once I did, I didn't reupload it. I thought I had, but I hadn't. So I published the chapter when Agent Jessup was still included. I've republished it without her presence. No other changes were made.

**Disclaimer:** FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

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><p>"It's not our place to adjust the universe."<br>- _Walter Bishop_

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><p>Walter doesn't want to be at the hospital. Despite what Astrid had said to Peter and himself earlier that day, he can feel his hands shaking as he stares at the doorway to the mental institute, Peter standing resolute at his side.<p>

He shakes his head as Peter raises a hand, though whether it's meant to comfort him or lead him forward, Walter isn't sure. Instead, he walks forward of his own accord, one hand clutching his kit, the other curled tightly into a fist at his side. He nods at the orderly who opens the door for him before entering the institute.

The smell of insanity hits him the moment the hospital's air hits him. Despair and hopelessness pour from the walls in waves and the feeling of human anguish is so thick in the air that he can practically taste it. He doesn't know how Peter can stand to come here every day. He doesn't know how the nurses and doctors and orderlies can willingly work here. He doesn't know how he survived for nearly seventeen years in a place so similar to this one. He flinches away from the first patient he sees but then Peter's hand is there on his arm, reassuring and lending him the strength he needs to continue.

Walter smiles weakly at his son before continuing onward. Peter leads him to the hall that leads to Olivia's cell. The orderly takes their jackets and keys and belts and almost takes Walter's bag before Astrid appears out of nowhere and convinces the young man that it's alright, that he's with the FBI and they're there to conduct a few tests on Agent Dunham. The orderly eyes her with vague suspicion and it isn't until Astrid flashes her badge that the man lets Walter's bag through with reluctance. "She's dangerous," he warns them as they go to step over the threshold into the hall. "I hope you people know what you're doing."

It takes Peter every ounce of his willpower not to punch the man for suggesting that Olivia would ever hurt them. Then he remembers Fauxlivia most certainly would.

He wonders what the workers here have been told. That she had suffered from a psychotic break? That she was a schizophrenic? That his father - his real father - had injected the memories of a woman just like her into her mind and that the man that could be claimed responsible for the entire mess gave her a cup of tea that destroyed her mind entirely just a few short months later?

Astrid's hand on his elbow breaks him from his thoughts. He smiles down at her, knowing full-well that she'll see right through his lame attempt at complacency. "It'll be alright, Peter. Walter will figure something out."

Peter nods at her before passing through the doorway to Olivia's hallway.

Two agents have been stationed just outside her door and Peter figures it's for their safety during this visit. He goes to open the door but Astrid stops him and instead leads him through a different door that he never noticed was there before and into an observation room connected to Olivia's. The room is dark and a single pane of two-way glass is in the wall. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room after the white hallway, but once they do, he finds himself staring slack-jawed at two people he never thought he'd see again, least of all here.

Walter is the first to recover, his voice giving words to Peter's confusion. "Agent Lee? What are you doing here?"

Astrid smiles as she stands between them. "I asked him to be here, Walter. I thought that someone who was familiar with Fringe Division would be useful."

Peter takes a moment to look over Astrid. He's not sure when (or even if) she was promoted from her Junior Agent status to full-blown FBI Agent, but he realizes how much he's come to rely on her. How much they've all taken her for granted. He assumes that she's been given point on this, that the whole thing is now her operation. She is, for all intents and purposes, his superior now and he catalogues that away in the back of his mind so as not to pull rank on her in the future.

"That's a really good idea, Astrid," he says, looking not at her but at the other agent in the room. Despite the fact that Lincoln Lee is from the Hartford office and only worked with them once before, he's relieved to have him here. Any more help they can get on this will be well received by him. He's already overwhelmed.

Astrid nods to accept the compliment. "Lincoln's already been briefed on everything that happened. It took a little bit of convincing, but eventually he came around."

Lincoln nodded apathetically. "It's been difficult for me to swallow the fact that the woman I met a few months ago was, technically, at the time a man. And that there's four people living inside of one mind."

Peter turns away from their banter, looking through the glass into the room where Olivia sits on her bed, twisting the sheets idly as she hums. He knows that this is Fauxlivia, simply by her demeanor. Olivia's alternate was never bothered by her being in a padded cell; in fact, in a twisted turn of events, she seemed to welcome it fully. It both disturbed and concerned Peter. But, as he had been told by the orderlies, when Olivia sat in that cell by herself, she panicked. She would curl up on the bed and stare at the wall. She would rock back and forth and pound on the walls and huddle herself in the corner. Her hands would shake and her voice would go hoarse from all her yelling. He knew it was from her time on the Other Side, from when his real father locked her up in a small, dark cell as they injected her with the memories of her doppelganger.

He knows that her being in that cell is probably breaking her further. Which is why he is determined to get her out.

He doesn't know when the room fell silent, when all its occupants turned their attention to him. Astrid raises a hand towards him. "Are you ready, Peter?" He nods weakly at her. As ready as he'll ever be.

Lincoln and Walter leave the room first. Peter goes to follow after them, but Astrid's voice stops him. "Are you sure you're ready to do this, Peter? You know what will happen if we can't find her, if she's buried too deep." She trails off, afraid to voice the repercussions.

"Yeah," Peter whispers, struggling to find his voice. "I know. But this is our last hope. And I promised her, Astrid. I promised her that as long as there was the slimmest chance of us even having a sliver of hope, I would be working to bring her back. I already broke a promise to her once. I'm not going to break another one."

He moves past her into the hallway, where the two agents and Walter are waiting. Astrid follows behind and motions for the men that flank Olivia's door to open it. As soon as it's open, Astrid steps inside, followed closely by her companions. The door shuts behind them and locks.

Walter moves instantly to Olivia's desk, sitting in the cold metal chair that has been bolted to the floor. Olivia watches him with interest for a moment before turning her attention to Special Agent Lincoln Lee, who stands guard at the door next to Peter.

She smiles at him, the first genuine smile Peter's ever seen from her when Fauxlivia was in control. "Lincoln. So nice of you to visit."

Lincoln nods warily at her before giving a confused glance to Peter. The other man gives him a reassuring nod of the head, telling him to play along with whatever she says.

"Nice to see you, too," Lincoln says, smiling tentatively at her.

"But you're not really Lincoln, are you?" She stands; out of the corner of his eye, Peter see's the agent's hand go instinctively to his hip, but of course there's no gun. Fauxlivia sashays to Lincoln, her eyes hooded. He's clearly caught off-guard. The last time he saw her, she was very scientific and proper; he never would've imagined that she would be this way. She reaches up with a hand, tracing his jaw. "You're just another version, aren't you? A shadow of him." She touches his glasses. "Lincoln doesn't wear glasses." She pulls them off, her hand playing over his brow as she stares into his eyes. "His eyes are darker," she observes. "And he has a scar. Right. Here." She scratches lightly at the corner of his eyebrow, drawing her nail down to his eye.

Suddenly, she steps back. Her eyes narrow as she looks at Peter. "You're back." Her voice is monotone, the statement simple and cold. She's cocks her head at him, quiet for a moment. Peter stares back, careful to remain impassive. "She wants to talk to you, Peter." She moves forward, slow, deliberate. "She says it's urgent. She's begging me, Peter. _Begging__**.**_" She pauses for a moment, as if listening to something else, something none of them can hear. Then she gives a sudden, sharp laugh. " She thinks you love her, Peter! She thinks you'll do anything for her. Shall I tell her the truth, set her straight? You don't really love her."

Peter keeps his expression emotionless, clear. He can't let her get to him, can't fall into her petty games. He looks to Walter, sitting at the desk behind her. His father nods at him, telling him that he's ready. Fauxlivia turns away from him, a smirk playing across her lips. She looks at Astrid, her eyes narrowing at the other woman.

She opens her mouth to speak but doesn't get the chance. As soon as her back is to him, he leaps into action. He jumps forward, wrapping his arms around her torso, pinning her arms to her side. She struggles against him, but Walter is too fast. He leaps from his place at her desk, a needle in his hand. He plunges the syringe into her neck, injecting the contents into her body with a swift motion. It takes a moment for the sedative to kick in but once it does, Olivia slumps in Peter's arms, unconscious.

Walter straightens his jacket, a satisfied grin on his face as he stands. "Well, that went well. Let's get her back to the lab!"


	4. The Battle Within

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong>  
><strong>Note:<strong>Thanks to zeusfluff, noz4a2, castleisbomb and Monica for their reviews! You guys really encourage me to write faster!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.

**IMPORTANT:** To those who read Chapter 3 before 4/11: When I originally wrote the chapter, I included Agent Jessup in it. I decided that she wasn't necessary and rewrote the chapter without her. But I had uploaded it before those changes were made and accidentally published the original chapter. You don't need to go back and read Chapter 3, just know that Agent Jessup will no longer be included.

**Disclaimer:** FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

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><p>"According to the old legend, if you run into yourself, your double, it means you're supposed to die."<br>- _Mike Flickner_

* * *

><p>He is dead. She knows he is dead. He died in her arms, years ago. Which is why it is so hard for her to understand how he is standing here before her now, eyes warm and welcoming.<p>

He is dead.

She's wary of him; she has every right to be. Before he died, she discovered the truth about him. He was a traitor to his country, a traitor to her. And she had loved him. She had loved him with everything she had and he broke her. But she recovered. And now she's broken again.

He raises a hand to her and opens his mouth to speak but she can't hear a word he says. The wind rushes around her as she stands in the middle of the bridge, her eyes going in and out of focus like an unstable camera lens.

Fog settles around her, around him. She can still see him, but his outline is vague; she feels like she needs her glasses to see clearly. A figure walks out of the fog, tantalizingly slow as she anticipates the person's arrival, wondering , praying that it will be Peter.

It isn't.

It's her. She steps out of the haze and onto the bridge, her eyes light, her hair dark. "Olivia," she says, a sadistic smile playing across her lips. Her features mirror Olivia's, but she knows that this woman isn't her. But at the same time, she knows this woman is her.

Her other self steps towards her, raising a hand as she begins to circle her. "Pretty, little Olive." The woman takes a strand of her hair, rubbing it between her fingers. "Pretty, little Olive with the pretty blonde hair and the pretty green eyes. How would you feel, pretty, little Olive, if you weren't so pretty anymore?"

Suddenly, the woman lashes out, scratching at Olivia's face, leaving long red lines down her cheek. She raises a hand to the wound and she can see John yelling for her and trying to reach her but he's being held back by some invisible force and the wind carries his voice away long before it can reach her.

"How does it feel, Olive? How does it feel to be damaged?" The woman strikes out again, this time punching her in the jaw. Olivia stumbles backwards, clutching her jaw. She can feel a bruise beginning to form. The woman drives her knee up into Olivia's ribs once, twice, three times, causing her to double over further on herself in pain. "To be imperfect?" She slams Olivia down to the wooden pier, where she lays, gasping for breath. "He'll never love you now," the Other Her sneers from above her, placing a foot on her back as if to hold her down. "He never loved you at all."

She's too weak. She tries and struggles against her doppelganger's strength to rise to her knees, to overpower her. But she fails. Over and over and over again, she fails. The Other Olivia flips her easily onto her side with her foot then bends next to her. She pushes a few strands of hair off Olivia's face, then lowers her mouth to her ear. "Not so pretty anymore, are you, Olive?" Olivia can hear the sneer in her alternate's voice. "There's no way he'll love you now. He never loved you anyways, little Olive."

The ground beneath her is no longer wooden dock but asphalt. She pushes herself up to see her Alternate grappling with John Scott a few yards away. A hand closes itself around her forearm and she lashes out at it. She realizes just in time that it's William Bell and that he isn't there to hurt her and she stops her attack before she hurts him. He gently helps her to her feet, letting her lean against him for support as she wraps an arm around herself. "We have to beat her, Olive. We have to drive her out."

"I can't," Olivia whispers, fear and pain lacing themselves in her voice. "She's strong, Willem. She's just too strong."

"If you can't defeat her, then she'll take over your mind. She'll destroy you, Olive. You'll be nothing more than a forgotten memory in the corner of your mind."

Yards away where John and her Alternate are fighting, John gives a yell as Olivia drives a kick to his ribs. Blood trickles from his mouth and he's gasping for breath. But in the midst of it, his eyes meet hers, drawing her into him with a protectiveness she hasn't seen in a long time.

William's voice pulls her from him. "We can't help you, Olive. We can only stall. We'll do as much as we can, but ultimately you have to be the one. Walter and I, we trained you Olive. We created you into a soldier to protect the universe. But you can't do that with her in your mind."

Olivia whimpers. "I know. I know. But she's strong. I can't defeat her on my own."

William nods. "I know. I've asked Peter to get Walter down to the hospital. He'll figure something out to help you."

Then Fauxlivia is there. She grabs William and throws him to the side as if he's no more than a rag doll. She shoves Olivia to the ground, where she scrapes her palms on the asphalt. Her alternate stands over her, a wide grin spreading over her lips. "You can't stop me, pretty little Olive. These two that you've brought to help you - they're useless. Merely pawns, insects. They can't do anything for you."

The light shifts and Fauxlivia is still standing before her, but a piece of tempered glass, wire meshed within, separates them. A white light fills the room and there are walls to the left and right and behind her. A curtain lowers itself over the glass, blocking her view of her doppelganger, grinning as she disappears.

The cell. She's back in her cell, the one on the Other Side, where Walternate injected her with the memories of the Other Her and made plans to cut into her head to see why it was she could cross without harm.

She feels a panic begin to rise in her chest, constricting her lungs and throat and making it difficult to breathe. She gasps for air, feeling herself floundering for traction in her own mind. She knows, deep down, that she's retreated even further into herself. The walls around her mind are back up and stronger than ever and then anyone who wants to get in will have to work harder than ever before to knock them back down.


	5. Into the Lion's Den

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,359  
><strong>Note:<strong>Thanks to castleisbomb and fox4mel for their reviews! I know this update is quick; I'm trying to get as many chapters in before **Lysergic Acid Diethylamide** airs. I know for sure this will run about 10 chapters and I won't get them all in before the episode airs, but I want to get at least up to Chapter 7 up before it does.

This chapter is mostly filler, and I'm sorry for that, but it was definitely necessary.

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"I'm not insane. I'm not what they say I am."<br>- _Olivia Dunham_

* * *

><p>The lab is cold. Lincoln looks over the tables and equipment as he steps into the basement room, confusion settling lightly in his mind. Despite the fact that the Harvard laboratory wasn't exactly the tidiest the last time he was here, it's gotten to the point of total disarray and chaos now. Papers and long forgotten experiments are strewn over the tables and any flat surfaces. Empty takeout containers and wrappers from sugary snacks cover any surface that isn't littered with papers. The ground is sticky in several places and there's some sort of chemical spill in the corner that's begun to corrose the tile.<p>

Astrid told him that she had been doing a lot of field work with Broyles after Olivia's institutionalization, but he hadn't realized until now how much the Bishops relied on her. He knows from Agent Farnsworth that Peter hasn't been around much but he suspects the man wouldn't have been much help to his father if he were. He was simply too upset over everything to do much of anything that didn't have anything to do with Olivia's recovery.

The only room that appears untouched is Olivia's office. Papers are stacked into piles around her desks and filing cabinets and a laptop rests on a table in front of a chair. Lincoln suspects the room hasn't been touched since Olivia's break down.

He knows from Agent Farnsworth that she had collapsed in the lab one day after William Bell had taken up residence in her body. He knows that they hadn't been able to extract him into a new host in time to stop the irreparable damage that slowly began to corrode Agent Dunham's mind. That after her consequent seizure, her heart stopped and she had to be resuscitated. That she almost hadn't made it and that when she woke, it wasn't just her anymore. It was Olivia Dunham and William Bell and Olivia Dunham, three consciences living inside one mind.

"I know it's a mess." The apologetic voice pulls him from his thoughts and he looks to Peter standing next to him, taking in the lab. The other man heaves a sigh before turning around to wave the two agents who are wheeling Olivia's gurney forward. They lift it down the stairs and Peter directs them to a spot in the center of the lab, where a crude set up sit. Three chairs surround a machine, with IV stands set up next to each seat. Wires weave from the machine to each chair and it's clear that they intend to use it for Walter's plan.

Walter follows into the lab after the agents, Astrid trailing through the door behind him. He crosses the lab to a small fridge, pulling vials and beakers from it and beginning his prep for the experiment.

Peter dismisses the agents once Olivia's bed is in place, then waves Lincoln over. "Could you help me move her?" Lincoln nods. Together, the two men transfer Olivia from her gurney to one of the chairs.

Once Olivia is settled, Walter and Astrid come over, having finished their preparations. Peter reclines in the chair to Olivia's right, leaving the last seat vacant for Walter. Backing off to give the others room, Lincoln watches silently as Walter puts an IV into Olivia's and Peter's arms before hooking them up to the machine. Astrid hangs bags of solution on the IV stand as Walter lays down and inserts his own drip. She then gives Peter and Walter a syringe, standing over Olivia with the last needle.

"Alright, everyone," Walter directs the other two, pulling the plastic cap off his needle with his teeth. "We shouldn't be under for more than three hours. Peter, once we're inside Olivia's mind, we'll have to find her quickly and find out exactly what Walternate used to plant Fauxlivia's memories. If she can't tell us, then we may have to work to extract the information from Fauxlivia herself."

Peter nods before looking at the syringe Walter had given him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Walter, what is this?"

Twisting in his seat to look at him, Walter smiles broadly. "LSD!"

At Walter's answer, Astrid holds the syringe further away from herself, eying it warily. "LSD? Walter, is it safe to inject this directly into the bloodstream?"

The older Bishop shrugs, settling into his seat. "It's not just LSD; it's an LSD saline solution. It won't kill us, if that's what you're asking. But it's the only way we'll be able to gain access into Agent Dunham's mind. We need to broaden our own brainwaves and the hallucinogenic properties in the LSD will do exactly that."

Peter gives a sigh, shaking his head at his father as he leans back into his seat, uncapping his syringe. "Here goes nothing."

"Astra, after three hours, inject the contents of those three syringes into our IVs." Walter waves a hand towards the needles on a nearby table. "Now, on the count of three, administer the LSD. One. Two. Three!"

Astrid presses the needle into Olivia's IV, pushing the contents out of the syringe and into the clear tube where it's transferred into her system. She moves quickly to begin Olivia's and the Bishop's IV drips, letting the sedative enter their systems. It isn't long before Peter and Walter are unconscious along with Olivia.

She moves to the machine in the center of the circle, switching it on to observer the brainwaves of the three. It takes a few minutes, but they eventually all sync, telling her that Peter and Walter have entered Olivia's mind.

Astrid turns back to Lincoln. "Now you and I have a job to do."

Lincoln nods, remembering that she had told him earlier of what they have to do before the Bishop's rescue mission. Right now, they were simply gathering information on the state of Olivia's mind. They wouldn't be extracting Bell, Agent Scott and 'Fauxlivia' from Agent Dunham's mind until they know exactly how. And if Bell is forced out of her consciousness without a new host to enter, then he and his knowledge will be lost forever.

Astrid goes to one of the computers in the lab, Lincoln trailing behind her. "So, what exactly are we looking for? What kind of host does Bell need?"

"Someone who is brain-dead," Astrid answers, fingers flying over the keyboard as she types in the search parameters. Lincoln sits next to her, booting up a second computer to work. "Preferably male, but that's not necessary. Once we find someone, we'll need to talk to their family. Hopefully they'll already be considering taking their loved one off life support. Then it shouldn't be too hard to convince them to let us have the body. That'll most likely be the hardest part. I've found a few potential candidates, but whenever Peter and I have gone to talk to the families, they've refused. They'd rather let their family member die and be buried then have another man living inside them."

Lincoln turns to her, startled. "Why would you tell them what you're going to do with the body? Wouldn't it be easier to just lie, let them believe that you're taking it for science? Or just tell them it's an issue of National Security?"

Astrid nods. "We had to. Broyles wouldn't let it happen any other way."

Giving a sigh, Lincoln turns to his own computer. "We may have to broaden our search, then," he says, beginning to search for the type of body they need.


	6. Through It All

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words: <strong>3,158  
><strong>Note:<strong>This is probably one of my favorite (and definitely longest) chapters of this entire story so far. I'll admit, it starts off a little shaky (in my eyes) but I am absolutely in love with the second half. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

I really hope to have the next chapter up tonight before "Lysergic Acid Diethylamide" airs, simply to get as much of this fic out there before it becomes completely AU. And then I hope to keep that momentum until the end!

A huge thanks goes out to **Cerulean.****Phoenix7** for pointing out a potential problem with my last chapter. I'll do my best to fix it in Chapter CP7!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"The mind is God. There are no limits except for those that we impose on ourselves."<br>- _Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>They were in a city. It takes Peter a second to figure out where, but the landmarks are familiar enough, if not slightly distorted. They are in downtown Boston. The sun shines above them, glittering off the skyscrapers, and the air is warm - a typical, summer day in Boston. People bustle and jostle around him, seemingly unperturbed by his presence.<p>

He feels a tug on his sleeve and turns to see Walter, who is watching the crowds around them. "Walter, where are we? Who are they?" He waves an arm towards the people, some of which are glancing towards them now.

The older man releases Peter's sleeve, taking in the city as he moves away from Peter. "We are inside Agent Dunham's mind," he says, his voice filled with awe. He turns back to Peter, eyes wide with excitement. "These must be all the people that Agent Dunham has ever come into contact with. Every single person that she has met or even passed by on the street. Every single person who has been in her life!"

The crowds have thinned, at least around them. They have retreated to the edge of the street, watching Peter and Walter, eyes narrowed with disdain.

"Why are they looking at us like that, Walter?"

"Hm?" Walter turns from the building to look at the crowd. "Like what?"

Every single person in the crowd turns to face them. Their eyes are hard, accusing, waves of mistrust and anger emanating from the hundreds of bodies just a few yards away.

Peter eyes them, wary of the motionless crowd. "I have a bad feeling about this."

They rush forward.

Walter shouts, his voice strained with fear. "Run!"

Peter reacts on instincts, all those times he'd been in similar situations in Iraq and the Middle East rushing back to him. He grabs Walter's arm and begins to pull his father behind him until he's certain the scientist is following on his own and letting him go. He begins to search wildly for a place where they can take refuge: a building, alley, anything. But the buildings are too far away and the alleys are filled with trash or people. Even more people sit inside their cars, horns blaring at them. As they come to an intersection, Peter spots it. And empty yellow taxi sits in the middle of the crosswalk, hazards blinking.

Peter jumps into the driver's seat as Walter dives into the back, thanking God that the doors are unlocked. The key is already in the ignition and Peter cranks it, the vehicle rumbling to life. Jamming the car into drive, they take off, weaving through the streets of Boston and away from the mob.

Once they are a safe distance away, Peter begins to slow the taxi. "What the hell was that?"

Walter doesn't take his eyes off the window, his head resting on the cool glass, waiting for his heart to return to normal. "Measures used to protect against intrusions of the mind, I posit. Those people, they seem to be similar to what white-blood cells are to the body." He straightens in his seat, using his hands to explain. "When a foreign substance, such as you and me, enters the mind, then they fight to destroy that substance and remove it from the mind. Much like white-blood cells destroy any foreign substances within the body. They are the soldiers of the mind." He taps the side of his own head enthusiastically.

"So they protect Olivia's mind?"

"Precisely."

"Walter, did you know about this? Before we decided to try this?"

He can tell from Walter's silence that he did. "I suspected," Walter says, shrugging lightly.

"Why wouldn't you tell me, Walter? So we could've been prepared?"

"I was afraid that you wouldn't think it was worth it. If we die in here, we'll never wake up out there."

Peter sighs, but takes a hand from the wheel and rests it on Walter's forearm. "I would do anything for Olivia, Walter. Even if it means me risking my life."

Walter turns to his son with a sad smile. "That's good to know, son. That's good to know."

They drive in silence for a few minutes as they both weigh the implications of their words. Peter is the first to speak, returning their conversation to their previous topic.

"If these mind soldiers are supposed to act like red blood cells, then why haven't they gotten rid of Bell or Fauxlivia? Or even John?"

Walter thinks for a moment, tracing an image on the glass of the window. "Perhaps it's the method of entry that's making it so that the soldiers don't recognize their presences as foreign. Bell's soul, his consciousness, is bonded to the magnet inside Olivia. And Fauxlivia's mind would so closely mirror our Olivia's that they would be nearly indistinguishable from hers. John's memories were transferred into Olivia's mind with her consent; she willingly accepted them. The soldiers wouldn't attack them because she wanted them there. And when she said good-bye to him, she didn't rid her mind of his memories. She simply buried them deeper."

"So Olivia is calling the shots."

"Not necessarily."

Peter glances at his father. "What do you mean?"

Walter sighs, turning his torso towards his son. "I mean that Fauxlivia has been in Agent Dunham for so long, her mind is beginning to take over Olivia's defenses. It's been shown in your meetings with her. You said yourself, sometimes you would speak with Olivia, sometimes with Bell, sometimes with Fauxlivia. They are beginning to take over her mind. If she was controlling the soldiers alone, then there wouldn't be any evidence of the others in her physical being."

They fall into silence. Peter takes in their surroundings, noticing for the first time that they've left the city behind. He can't even see it in the rearview mirror. The land around them looks familiar, but it takes him a few moments to recognize this place as Jacksonville, near the daycare where Walter tested children and injected them with Cortexiphan.

They pass a field of white tulips, a young boy and girl sitting in it, talking. Peter slows the taxi as they drive by, watching the two with interest. "What is this?"

"I believe we've entered Olivia's memories."

"Olivia or Fauxlivia?"

Walter watches as the girl speaks to the boy, placing a white tulip in his lap, her eye darkened by a bruise, as she sits beside him. "I'm certain these are Olivia's."

The road leads them to the daycare. Peter parks in the lot, shutting off the engine as he opens the door. Walter follows him into the old daycare, nervous of what they're going to find here. They pass a room where a young Olivia sits drawing, her hair carefully concealing her face. Another room shows Olivia sitting in the only untouched corner of an otherwise scorched room. The next is completely dark, but Peter can hear her panicked voice, the fear apparent in the tremor of her words. They see Olivia swinging, a young version of Rachel at her side. Olivia and three other children, arms outstretched towards each other, Walter in the center, leading the group.

It's clear that these are her memories, things she's stored away in her mind, tucked there to remind her of who she is.

While most of the doors in the daycare are opened, one that's shut catches Peter's eye. It isn't white and clinical like the others, but rather a dark oak, the type of door you'd expect in a house, not a daycare. He opens it, stepping cautiously inside.

It enters to a hall. He can hear shouting coming from one end and follows the noise, unaware that Walter isn't following him. He watches as young Olivia runs past him, panting, terror in her eyes. A man stalks after her, yelling.

Peter follows the two into the kitchen, watching as Olivia stumbles into a corner, falling backwards as the man raises a hand to strike her.

Suddenly, the kitchen is gone, replaced by an empty field. Olivia falls back into the grass, startled to find herself out of harm's way and in such a different place. He can see her confusion, can feel for her as she looks up to find a large blimp hovering over them. And then he knows that they are in the Other Universe, that he is witnessing the first time she crossed to the Other Side.

A second flash and they are back in their Universe, in the kitchen, where the first blast must've knocked her stepfather out as he is laying on the kitchen floor, unconscious. Olivia sneaks past him, tears streaking down her face, before running off into the house.

Peter tries to follow her, only to find himself back in the daycare, where Walter is standing outside the door he went through.

"I saw it," Peter says, furious from what he just experienced. "I saw the first time she crossed over. She was terrified, Walter! Terrified! And you did that to her! She was a child, Walter! A child!"

Walter nods at Peter and drops his head to his chest, his voice broken when he speaks. "I know, son." He pauses for a second before continuing, deflecting as he often does. "But that isn't why I came over here. I think you need to see something."

He leads Peter to another closed door, but when he opens it, it doesn't lead to another one of Olivia's memories, as he had hoped. It opens to a theatre, much like the one that he and Walter and Fauxlivia returned to when they came back from the other side. Rows and rows of dark blue seats lead down to a raised stage, where a large black screen sits. Walter leads Peter down an aisle and into a row, where they take two seats. As soon as they sit, the lights dim, and a projector comes to life from somewhere behind them.

A picture focuses on the screen. It's Olivia, in her early to mid-teens, holding a gun and pointing it somewhere off-screen. The quality is reminiscent of an old-film movie and Peter realizes that they are watching her memories, just as she pulls the trigger. The camera pans around to show her stepfather laying on the ground, bleeding from a bullet wound in his shoulder, near his heart Olivia scoots away from the body, towards her mother and sister huddled beneath a table. Her mother gathers her in her arms as she begins to cry, sobbing. "He was going to hurt you." Olivia's voice is small. "He was going to hurt you."

The scene changes, and Peter watches as Olivia's mother succumbs to the cancer. He watches as Rachel and Olivia bury her in a graveyard on a mockingly sunny day. He watches as Rachel and Greg get married, noting the look of disapproval on Olivia's face. He watches as Rachel gives birth to Ella, Olivia at her side and her husband nowhere to be seen. He watches as Olivia graduates from the Academy and is paired with Charlie Francis. He watches as she meets and falls in love with John Scott and as he betrays her.

He watches her first meeting with himself, the first time she saw Walter, the first time she experienced the insanity that is the Bishop family. He watches as they work to solve cases, the beat of an easy dynamic thudding between them.

He watches as she drives to New York to meet with Nina Sharp. As she finds herself in William Bell's office instead, an offered cup of tea on the desk between them. As an explosion brings her back to their Universe, where she crashed from the inside of her car and to the pavement an hour after the accident took place.

He watches as her hands shake and she limps with a cane, the sight of her in so much pain breaking his heart over again. As she nearly shoots him inside an old farmhouse and as he almost loses her again underneath the same building. As she struggles to recover from her accident and meets with the ever-sarcastic Sam Weiss.

He watches her daring rescue mission to the Other Side after he left them. As she changes herself to look like her alternate so she can fool the ones closest to her. As she convinces him to go with her, to return home. And as she's locked up on the Other Side and he comes back with a woman that isn't the one he loves.

He watches as she's placed into a cell and poked and prodded until they break her and then they break her again. As they prepare to cut into her brain and she's reduced to begging for her life. As they inject her with a blue substance that leaves angry scars at the injection sites. As she makes her daring escape, jumping in the ocean and swimming the distance between Liberty Island and the shore.

He watches as she tries to make her way back home, but is foiled at every turn. As she finally succumbs to whatever it is they used to plant the memories of her alternate within her, giving in and becoming somebody she isn't.

He watches as she hallucinates himself and Walter. As she nearly dies at the hands of a man that can predict the future but doesn't because she doesn't know the protocol because she isn't from this side. As she sees him in her home, telling her that she can't forget who she is and where she's from. That she can't forget this, as he kisses her gently.

He watches as she says good-bye to Frank and slowly begins to recover herself as she works with Walternate and an Alternate version of the scientist, Brandon, to find how she is able to cross between worlds.

He watches as she finally returns home. As she fights to rid Fauxlivia from every aspect of her life and tears herself apart in the process. As she breaks at knowing that he didn't see that she wasn't her the whole time. As she sees how important and true love is in the screwed up shit-hole of a world and accepts Peter and herself enough to truly want what she's wanted the entire time.

He watches their entire relationship through her eyes. He witnesses her sense of his betrayal and cringes at her view of him during the first weeks of her return. He knows now how much she cares for him and can truly understand the depths of his feelings for her after gaining this knowledge of her feelings for him.

He watches as she breaks down in the lab. As she wakes up not knowing exactly who she is. As she fights to rid herself of Fauxlivia and Bell and then John, but loses every time. As she falls further back into herself, tightening her walls to keep them out of the last bit of her that truly is _her_ and at the same time gives them more access to every other bit of her. As she struggles to hold on to him, to Walter, to Rachel or Ella or Astrid or anything that will help her to keep a hold on herself as she slips farther and farther away from the surface of sanity.

He watches as she closes herself off in a cell that exists on the Other Side, a place that was once her prison but now has become her refuge. And he knows. He knows that she's still in her own mind somewhere and now he knows where and he just has to find her and bring her back. He just has to bring her back. But then the world is fading and he's gasping for air in the basement lab, bolting upright and staring wildly around as he loses his tether on her, wondering what the hell just happened.

Astrid is there in a heartbeat, helping to pull wires and needles out of himself and Walter and asking what happened as they both struggle to their feet, reeling from everything they witnessed deep in the recesses of Olivia Dunham's consciousness.

"Did you see it?" Astrid asks, moving to unhook the still-unconscious Olivia after both the Bishops are settled. "Do you know how they planted the Other Olivia's memories?"

Peter realizes just then that he never noted the substance they'd injected her with, even though her memories had shown him. He realizes the gravity of his mistake. And it weighs him down, slumping him against the chair he just rose from. He's failed her again. After everything they'd gone through, and he can't remember the label on the vile of a blue serum.

But Walter was there and he remembers. He places a hand on Peter's forearm and smiles a crooked smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I've got it, Peter. I know what they did to Olivia. And I think I know how we can get her back."

And for the first time in a long time, Peter hugs his father.


	7. A Risky Proposition

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,598  
><strong>Note:<strong>Quick update, I know! My goal was to get this chapter up before LSD airs and I am very glad to say that I made it! I probably won't have the next chapter up until Monday or Tuesday, so I apologize about that. But, anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"What we're doing, what you've asked me to do, is push the boundaries of all that is real and possible."<br>- _Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>Despite Walter's optimism at bringing Olivia home, his plan fails. And so does his second and his third and his fourth. Peter works patiently with him, neither of them speaking about what transpired during their shared time in Olivia's mind.<p>

Astrid can see that Peter is shaken by whatever it was that he witnessed. He's easily distracted and often zones out, looking out the high basement windows or watching Olivia slumber, still unconscious in her chair.

Walter gets easily frustrated with him, snapping at Peter to focus as he tries to bounce theories and ideas off him. Astrid can tell that neither of them are very focused and that their time in Olivia's mind has had some sort of effect on them. It's rare for Walter to get frustrated with any of them, but especially with Peter and it makes Astrid wonder, not for the first time, what was in Olivia's mind to change them this way.

It isn't until a beaker explodes while Peter is supposed to be watching it that Walter actually yells at Peter. The beaker was heating as Walter tried to stabilize his latest experiment and Peter had gotten distracted once again, causing the beaker to overheat and explode, its contents splattering over the lab. Walter storms over to his son, yelling at him about incompetence and irresponsibility in the lab.

Astrid moves quickly as Peter begins to retaliate, stepping between them.

"Stop it!" she yells, holding her arms out towards each of them. "You both need to calm down and do something more productive than yelling at each other! It isn't going to do anything for you and it especially isn't going to help Olivia!"

Peter and Walter both stare at her for a moment, eyes wide with shock. Lincoln speaks up in the silence, his words a cool, neutral contrast to their emotion-driven ones.

"Astrid's right," he says, standing and walking towards them. "Your fighting isn't going to do anything to help Agent Dunham. We can't be getting frustrated or mad at each other – we need to work together on this."

Walter suddenly straightens and walks away from them as he begins to pace the lab. "Peter, when you were very young, your mother sometimes brought you to the daycare when Belly and I were experimenting with the effects of Cortexiphan on children." He stops to look at Peter, as if expecting him to jump in on his thoughts.

"I don't remember that, Walter."

Walter waves him off, pacing again. "At any rate, we paired children up and assigned them to groups. They were to work as a team to solve problems that we posed to them. They were supposed to learn how to work together, so that when they needed to fight they would be able to do so flawlessly – they would already know each others' strengths and weaknesses."

Peter raises a hand towards Walter, as if trying to get him to stop his movements or to slow his words. "What are you getting at, Walter? Should we bring Olivia's partner or team in here to solve our problem?"

Walter shakes his head impatiently. "No, they all died when we went to the Other Side to rescue you." He stops pacing, looking at them excitedly. "Cortexiphan!"

They wait for him to explain more, but Walter is gone, muttering nonsensical gibberish to himself. Peter sighs. "Walter, what about Cortexiphan?"

The older man looks at him for a moment, a look of confusion on his face before he understands. "Oh, right, Cortexiphan. Our Agent Dunham was exposed to high levels of Cortexiphan at a young age. Because of Belly's absence on the Other Side at this point, it is safe for us to assume that the Other Agent Dunham was not similarly exposed. This would give Our Olivia an edge over Fauxlivia.

Peter watches Walter carefully, realization dawning in his eyes. "So if we give Olivia Cortexiphan, she'll be able to get rid of Fauxlivia?"

Walter shakes his head. "Not exactly. The Cortexiphan will give Olivia strength, but I do not know if she has either the will or the motivation to fight Fauxlivia." He grips Peter's shoulders, his eyes wild with a madness Peter has only seen within his father once or twice before. "We have to go back, Peter. We have to pull her out and bring her home."

Gently, Peter extracts himself from Walter's grip, patting his hand softly. "Okay, Walter."

Walter nods at his son before moving away, working to synthesize more LSD and Cortexiphan for their rescue mission.

Peter turns to Astrid and Lincoln, shaking his head. "Now that that's settled, have you two found anything on a new host for Bell?"

Astrid nods. "Oh, yes, we did. Come on." She waves Peter and Lincoln over as she moves to a computer and sits down. She quickly types in a few commands and brings up a file on the screen. "Potential Host #1: Male, late seventies. He was in an accident ten years ago and has been comatose ever since. The doctors believe he has a very low chance of ever waking on his own."

Peter shakes his head as he reads the file. "He's had significant brain function since the accident. He's not completely brain dead. We can't take away the chance that he'll wake up someday by completely uprooting what little consciousness he has left."

"Okay. Here's another one. Female, mid-forties. She had a stroke a year ago and hasn't had any brain activity since."

Again, Peter rejects the candidate. "She has young children. I don't want to put them through this."

Lincoln points to a third file. "How about Candidate #3? Male, 67. Car accident seventeen years ago. He had seizures before that and this isn't his first coma. His wife passed on four years ago and they have no children. The only reason he's still on life support is because of his brother, who refuses to let him die without it occurring naturally."

Peter reads the file carefully, searching for any possible reason why they wouldn't be able to even talk to the man's brother. Unable to find anything, he give his approval. "Alright, we'll try this guy. If the brother doesn't want to, though, we can't push him. We're talking about a very delicate situation here."

Astrid understands and gets up, pulling out her phone. "I'll call Broyles."

Peter moves away from them, going back to help Walter. He gives Lincoln a nod of approval as he passes the agent. "Good job, Agent Lee. You may just have a job with Fringe Division once this is finished."

"Peter!"

Peter sighs, going down the steps into the main area of the lab. "What is it, Walter?"

Walter turns the screen he is looking at towards him, his mind working to make sense of what he's seen.

Peter looks at the screen impatiently, wondering why Walter can't simply tell him what's happening. Although it takes him a few moments, he finally realizes what he's looking at. It's a chemical composition and, if Peter's right, it's the composition of a toxin.

"Walter, why did you synthesize a new poison?"

"I didn't mean to. I simply added 50 milligrams of LSD and the Cortexiphan, just to see if they would have any adverse effects on each other. And when I ran it through the mass spectrometer, I found that, when combined, the two form a highly potent poison."

"Walter, we cannot put this in Olivia."

Walter turns on him, wide-eyed. "We have to son. It's our only choice."

"It'll kill her!"

"Not immediately!" Walter's voice takes on a hushed, urgent tone, one he often uses when he's trying to explain a new theory. "Within an hour of exposure, the toxin will have no adverse effects!"

Peter stares at him for a moment. "That means that once the two are administered, we'll only have an hour to find Olivia and convince her to fight for control of her mind? And she has to win before the poison can kill her?"

"Well, we'll have a little less than an hour since our brainwaves will have to sync first and the poison won't _kill_ -"

"Walter."

Guiltily, Walter looks at Peter. "Yes, that's the essentials."

"And what happens when she wakes up?"

"I'll have to find a sort of anti-toxin, something that will neutralize either the LSD or the Cortexiphan, yes, but once it's administered, she'll be fine, Peter. And she'll be home."

Peter nods at his father. "Alright, Walter. But if she dies, I will never forgive you."


	8. Changing Tides

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,645  
><strong>Note:<strong> So sorry for the delay! I know, it's been over two weeks since my last update. But in my defense, I was in Alaska last week for spring break and the week before that I had no time to write since I was doing a ton of last minute work at school.

Just so you know, I only have two more chapters and an epilogue lined up for this. Hopefully, I'll finish things up around the end of the season. Thanks again for reading and please review!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"When you open your mind to the impossible, sometimes you find the truth."<br>- _Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>Astrid and Lincoln work quickly to find Bell's new host. It isn't hard to see that Peter is losing his patience with every passing moment. He walks past Olivia's sleeping form in the chair every other minute and each time he does, his hands or eyes flit towards her unconscious body, as if to draw her in with his movements and shield her from the rest of the world as she sleeps.<p>

But there is nothing to be done to speed up the process. Lincoln contacts their potential host body's brother, but Broyles has refused to let them move forward without his presence. And while Peter and Walter have been working to synthesize an antidote for the poison they will inevitably have to introduce to Olivia, he too frustrated and upset to be much help to Walter, who quickly loses the little patience he has and sends Peter away.

Peter goes to leave the lab, passing Broyles as he exits the room. The agent looks at him as he walks by. He reaches out a hand, resting it comfortingly on the younger man's forearm. "We'll figure this out, Peter. I promise."

Peter nods gruffly at him in response before walking out, slamming the door behind him.

Broyles turns to walk into the lab, shaking his head at the two agents sitting there, at a loss for words about Peter's current state. He instead directs his attentions to the agents, asking what news they have for him about their potential new host.

Astrid's fingers play quickly over the keyboard, bringing up the man's file. "Harvey Oswald, 67 years old. He was in a car accident ten years ago and has been completely brain dead since then. He isn't married and doesn't have any children that we know of. He's been on life support since the accident.

Broyles nods. "What's keeping the doctors from taking him off?"

"His brother. He's extremely religious and believes that Harvey's time of death should be up to God, not him. That God will take him when He is ready and not a moment before. We've already contacted him, but so far he isn't budging."

"Have you explained our situation?"

Lincoln shakes his head and answers. "I didn't think we could, sir. He isn't in an intelligence or military position. He's a civilian; he works for a bank. He has absolutely no clearance. It'd be a breach of protocol and national security to tell him anything about what's going on here.

Broyles stares at the agent for a moment, his eyes hard. "Agent Lee, Fringe Division is so far outside of protocol that the word shouldn't even exist here. We've broken it more times than any government institution has in the history of the intelligence community." He turns to Astrid. "What hospital is Harvey Oswald located at?"

Astrid is surprised to find that Harvey Oswald isn't that far. As they pull into the parking lot at Mercy General Hospital, she knows that it makes sense for Oswald's brother to move him here. Mercy General is the best hospital in the United States and, by extension, the world. If anyplace was going to bring Harvey out of his coma, it would be here. But she's gone over the files with Walter and Peter and Lincoln and Broyles. And she knows that there is no chance Harvey will ever wake up. Right now, all his brother is waiting for him to die.

Harvey's brother rises to greet the three Agents and Peter as they step into Harvey's room. It took a lot to convince Peter to come with them; Astrid managed to tell him that he'd be more helpful to Olivia here than at her side in the lab with Walter, but she suspects it was more the prospect of having something to do instead of sitting around that convinced him to come. Broyles shakes the man's hand, his features stiff. They're counting on Harvey's brother for a lot and the senior agent isn't hopeful for the outcome.

"Mr. Oswald," Astrid says, greeting the man. "Agent Astrid Farnsworth, I spoke with you on the phone. Thank you so much for meeting us here on such short notice."

The man shakes her offered hand. "Please, call me Richard. And it was no problem at all; I was going to be down here anyways, I just had to change the time. And when the FBI requests a meeting with you, you don't refuse."

Astrid nods. "Either way, we really appreciate it." She takes a moment to take in the man's appearance. He's not slender, but he isn't overweight either. His hair is gray and thinning and he appears to be in his late fifties. His voice is strong, but not in an unpleasant way, with a slight Southern twang. He's wearing a gray polo and a pair of work jeans and heavy boots.

Oswald nods, then moves to stand behind his brother's bed, looking over the comatose man at him. "If this is about Harvey, I haven't changed my mind. When God wants him, God'll take him. Until then, Harvey stays here, with us."

Lincoln steps forward, raising his hands up apologetically. "Mr. Oswald, I understand your reluctance. I, too, am a religious man. But did you ever stop to think that God wanted to take Harvey when he was in that accident? And that by keeping him artificially alive like this, you're going against his wishes?"

Oswald shakes his head. "Harvey didn't go into the coma until a week after the accident. Lasting brain damages, the doctor said. And he wasn't declared brain dead until a month after that. If God had wanted Harvey with Him, then He would've taken him in the accident. But He didn't. God gave us a chance to save his life and put him on life support. Harvey goes when he's good and ready and not a moment before."

Broyles is the first to break the silence that follows. "Mr. Oswald, we need your brother's body. It's a matter of life or death."

"Yeah, Harvey's!"

"Sir, I am this close to requisitioning this body in the name of National Security."

Oswald moves around his brother's bed, his steps threatening. "You won't do a damn thing," he says, his voice low, a fist raised towards the senior agent. "My wife's a lawyer."

An impasse. That's what Peter would call this. A moment where nothing good can happen and good is nothing for them. They need Harvey Oswald's body to become Bell's new host, for Olivia to be saved from herself. And they can't do that without Richard Oswald's cooperation. He knows that Broyles doesn't have a warrant to seize the body and he can see that Oswald will take them to court if they do. They wouldn't be able to explain their reasoning's for the seizure to a judge without losing credibility and they would most certainly lose the case.

Which is why Peter decides to take a different tact and steps forward, his heart boldly on his sleeve.

"Mr. Oswald, how long have you and your wife been married?"

Oswald grunts. "'Bout forty years."

"I take it you love her very much?"

A nod. "'Course I do."

"Would you do anything for her?"

"Yes. I would fight an army for her."

Peter sighs. "Then you can understand where I'm coming from. Mr. Oswald, I too love a woman very much. And she's really, really sick right now. We've tried everything to help her but nothing so far has worked. Your brother is the last chance we have to save her. If we can't take him with us right now, she'll die. I can't let her die."

Astrid has rarely seen Peter's emotional side, but she can see that his words are taking an effect on Oswald. The man is looking between Peter and his brother, his eyes welling up as he twists the wedding band on his finger. He crosses to room to the body and leans down, kissing his older brother's forehead before turning to look out the window in his room. He speaks, his words almost too low to hear. "Take him. Quick. 'Fore I change my mind."

Broyles nods to Lincoln, who leaves the room to find someone who can help them move Harvey. Broyles follows behind him, nodding a quick thanks to Peter. After acknowledging the gesture, Peter speaks up again to Oswald, his voice sincere. "Thank you, Richard. You have no idea what you're doing for us."

Oswald nods. "Just save your girl, will ya?"

Peter smiles. "I'll do everything I can. Promise."

And in that moment, at that change in the tides, Astrid can't help but feel that everything is going to work out.


	9. In the Midst of the Storm Part 1

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 2,618  
><strong>Note:<strong> Again, sorry for the delay! This chapter took much longer for me to write and turned out to be over twice as long as the rest of my chapters, so I decided to cut it into two parts. And I apologize about that. But it also means that this fic will be longer for you guys!

Please review! They really help with the writing process!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"Only those who risk going too far find out how far they can go."<br>- _Secretary Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>The lab is quiet. Despite the number of people contained within its walls, it is oddly calm. No noise permeates the air, save for a small rustle of papers here, a sigh of frustration there, the quick shuffle of its occupants as they work to get everything in place for their next task.<p>

The chairs are set up once more in their crude circle, one of the three already occupied. Even though they could've brought Olivia out of her sedative-induced slumber, Walter had decided against it, instead opting to keep her sedated. They didn't need to deal with Fauxlivia on top of everything else right now.

Lincoln and Broyles talk in Olivia's office, staying out of the way as Peter and Walter and Astrid work to synthesize an anti-toxin. It only takes a few hours for them to manufacture the antidote, but once they do, everything is ready. They are fully prepared to move forward with Walter's plan.

Astrid hangs a bag of Cortexiphan on Olivia's IV, sticking the needle in her left arm, though she doesn't begin the drip yet. Walter and Peter take their places on either side of her, putting their own IVs in place. The drips begin and, as instructed, fifteen minutes after the three are under and their brainwaves synced, Astrid begins the Cortexiphan drip.

She settles in to watch over the three as Lincoln and Broyles come from Olivia's office and join her. Broyles speaks. "If they don't get her back within the hour..."

"Then Olivia will be lost forever," Astrid finishes.

* * *

><p>The city is dark. It's night in Olivia's mind and even though Boston is usually a flurry of activity after dark, the city is strangely quiet. Peter stands in the middle of a street, much like he did the first time he entered Olivia's mind, Walter next to him. But this time, there's no strangers milling about them. No one ready to kill them and send them back to the world of the living.<p>

Walter goes to move forward but Peter is instantly suspicious of the lack of defenses and puts out a hand to stop him, eyes darting around the dark streets and alleyways. Gray eyes meet blue with confusion, the elder man's brow furrowing as he looks at his son. "Peter? What is it?"

"I don't like this. Where are her defenses? Last time we were here, they attacked us. Where are they now?"

Lightning flashes overhead, the accompanying thunder booming a moment later. The two look skyward, Walter's eyes darkening as he takes in the stormy skies. "Perhaps they are somewhere else."

Peter looks at him. "Fauxlivia?"

"I suspect."

Peter's eyes harden as he looks at him, his hands curling at his sides. "Where?"

Walter reaches a hand towards the sky, pointing at a spot where the storm seems to be radiating from. "The most probable place would be the epicenter," he says, turning towards his son. "Olivia's ready to fight now. The Cortexiphan is giving her strength. We just need to find her, to convince her that she's ready. She won't know otherwise."

Peter nods. "Okay. I know where she is. I saw it the last time we were here." He begins to walk towards a car, Walter trailing behind him.

"Where are we going?"

"Liberty Island."

Walter gives a little hop of excitement. "Oh, I love a good roadtrip!"

* * *

><p>Despite the distance between Boston and New York, the drive is surprisingly short. He isn't sure if it's because of the speed or the lack of traffic or the simple fact that everything within Olivia's mind is an entire world within itself, though he suspects the latter.<p>

New York is like nothing he's seen before. He isn't sure what is happening with the city, as half of it appears to be from the Other Side, the other half from Their Own. The World Trade Center stands near the harbor, but the Statue of Liberty is green, not copper. A few buildings are encased in Amber, but no zeppelins grace the sky. It's a mix of two universes that were never supposed to exist together.

Peter drives them into the center of the city and towards the harbor, where a ferry awaits them to Liberty Island. The storm seems to radiate from the Statue's torch, spreading out over the city and the ocean. The wind gets worse as they near the island, the headquarters for the Department of Defense on the Other Side.

Walter eyes the green statue with trepidation, his brow furrowed tight. "Are you sure this is right, son? On the Other Side, the statue was copper. Perhaps she's not here."

Peter nods. "I know this is where she'll be."

The ferry takes them to the island where they finally begin to see more people. But their sudden appearance is far more unnerving to Peter than their absence. They line the walkway to the Statue of Liberty, eyes following Peter and Walter's every movement. They jostle each other to see the two, pressing forward, though they do not step on the sidewalk. It's as if the Bishops are criminals being sent to their execution and everyone wants to get a glimpse of them before their death but no one wants to get too close to the condemned.

Peter eyes them. "Walter, what's going on?"

"Olivia's mind is confused. It doesn't know if it should be fighting for or against us, if we're here to harm or help her."

Peter moves forward, more determined than ever to save Olivia. Last time they were here, her mind was intent on protecting itself. Now, the wary projections mean that she's crumbling, unable to shield herself from the dangers that press against her.

The doors swing open as they approach and Peter finds himself looking at exactly what he's expecting – the interior of the Department of Defense. His biological father, the Secretary, stands off to one side, his suit gleaming in the sudden light that has entered the building. He walks towards the Bishops, eyes wary.

"You shouldn't be here, son," he says, his voice dangerously slow. "You're going to ruin everything."

Peter glares at him for a moment, his eyes shooting daggers at the man. "What do you want with her?"

Walternate shakes his head. "Not me. I'm not the one calling the shots here."

Peter narrows his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Walter is at his shoulder, pulling Peter away from his birth father. "Peter, look at him. Carefully. He isn't the same as the other projections."

Now that it's been pointed out to him, Peter realizes that Walter is right. He takes a close look at the man, noting the slight, almost imperceptible difference between him and the other projections. His features are sharper, harsher, as if he's under a bright spotlight instead of the soft fluorescent lights of the DOD headquarters. There is a haze around him, almost reddish in tint. He seems to flicker and go in and out of focus, just barely enough to be perceptible to Peter.

"Walter, what is that?"

"I don't think this projections is from Our Olivia," he says, backing away and pulling Peter with him as his alternate steps forwards, eyes darkly menacing. "I think he is a projection form the Other Olivia's mind."

"What does that mean, Walter?"

The older man sighs. "It means Fauxlivia is getting stronger. She is beginning to root herself in Agent Dunham's mind. She's starting to take over completely."

Peter stares at him in horror for a moment before muttering, "We have to find her," and racing down the hall, ignoring the protests of the two men behind him.

The Department of Defense Headquarters is a labyrinth. He isn't sure if it is like this on the Other Side or if Olivia has just made it this way to protect herself further. He's only been on the main level, not to the lower sublevels where he knows Olivia is being held.

After a few minutes of searching, Peter knows he is helplessly lost in the maze. He has no idea where the cell is that he saw Olivia in the last time he was in her mind. And as he searches fruitlessly, precious minutes of their limited time tick by.

"Peter Bishop?"

He turns wildly, ready to attach the projection, to demand and find out exactly where Olivia is.

But what he sees spots him cold, freezing him in place. Agent John Scott stands before him, head titled curiously to one side, eyes narrowed in confusion. Both men can tell, though they're not sure how, that the other isn't a projection. That they are both really in Olivia's mind.

They are silent for a moment before Peter moves towards him. "Where is Olivia? Where is she?"

John shakes his head. "It isn't pretty, Peter. She's not doing well."

"Take me to her."

John shrugs at Peter's quick dismissal and leads the other man down a complex path of twists and turns and sudden corners, a way that Peter never would've found on his own.

A long corridor greets them as the step around a corner, stretching before them. Windows to nowhere line either side of the hall at perfectly even intervals. And at the end of the hall, resting solidly in the wall the corridor dead-ends at, is a single glass pane.

Peter walks towards it, ignoring all the other windows, his focus completely on the window at the end of the hall. He knows, without questioning how, that Olivia will be here. He knows that the window is hers and that she is what he will see when he draws up the shade.

And as his footsteps bring him closer and closer to it, they quicken, building up in anticipation until he is at the window, fingers touching the cool glass. He presses a button on the wall and the shade, tantalizingly slow, retracts, revealing the view underneath.

Olivia is huddled in a corner of the cell, turned away from him, her arm covering her face. She's wearing a plain white gown and her blonde hair spills over her shoulders. There's a dark bruise on her arm in the shape of a handprint. She's shaking. Even from outside the room, Peter can see that she's trembling.

And then she turns, her dark eyes widening as she takes him in, memorizing his face, this moment, _now_. He can feel his blue eyes mirroring her green ones.

Angry red scratches line her cheek. A loud, purple bruise surrounds one eye. Her lip is split and more cuts and scrapes mark her forehead.

But worse, much worse than all of that, are the lines that cross her face. The dotted one that circles her non-bruised eye. The ones that cross over the cuts on her forehead, tracing out the unmistakable path of the saw of a brain surgeon.

At the sight of her, his heart breaks, then mends itself, then breaks again.

Olivia shifts as she recognizes Peter, rising slowly from her corner to approach the window, her eyes swimming with confusion. "Peter?" Her voice is soft, wounded. "Is that really you?" She presses her palms against the glass tentatively, almost as if she's afraid to believe that he's really here.

He smiles weakly at her, almost relieved by her trepidation. She's still protecting herself, despite the fact that her defenses are weakened. "Yeah, sweetheart. It's me."

She recoils slightly at that and, almost as if on instinct, defends herself from the name. "Don't call me sweetheart."

Peter's smile broadens into a true, genuine grin at her retaliation. "'Livia," he breathes, his voice low, filled with relief. They fall silent for a moment, simply taking each other in, basking in the other's presence, before Peter speaks. "Is there a way for you to get out of there?"

She nods. "There's a door. But it's locked."

"This is your mind Olivia. Nothing is the way you don't want it to be."

Olivia nods then turns to the wall adjacent to the one with the window, where a plain white door stands. She focuses on it, simply willing it to unlock. There's a click and Olivia pulls on it. The door swings open easily.

All of a sudden, there's a door to the left of the window, against the same wall on the outside of the cell. Peter knows it's impossible for the door to be there in coexistence with the door in Olivia's cell, but she's standing on the other side of it, staring at him with wide eyes. And he reminds himself that, in the mind, _nothing_ is impossible.

John has joined them by now, leaving any reunion they would have for later. He nods at Olivia, eyes concerned. "You ready for this?"

"What do I need to do?"

Peter answers, his words almost pleading. "You need to fight, Olivia. You need to get your Alternate out of your mind. She'll destroy you if you don't."

Olivia drops her head. "I can't, Peter. I'm not strong enough."

He reaches for her but pulls his hand back at the last moment, afraid to touch her, afraid that she's so fragile, she'll shatter if he does. Instead he speaks, his encouragement filtered through his words. "You are, Olivia. We're giving you Cortexiphan right now. She's never had it; the drug won't affect her. But it _will_ help you, Olivia. It'll give you strength. You can fight her. You can get her out of your mind."

"And if I do? What about Bell? John? _You?_ What will happen then?"

"We'll leave. We have a body for Bell and John will go without resistance. My presence was always temporary, as is Walter's. You'll finally be alone in your head, Liv."

She nods. "Okay." The ghost of a smile drifts across her face and her eyes water as she looks up at him, the shadow of determination creeping into her voice. "Okay."

John watches the exchange silently then urges them onward, aware of the pressing time they have. "Ready?"

Peter nods. "I think so."

Together, they make their way out of the building and to the world outside. The doors loom before them, solid and safe, protecting them from the storm raging behind them. Though he doesn't know why, Peter holds his breath as John opens the door softly, suddenly afraid of the world outside, terrified of what awaits them.

He feels a warm hand slip into his and grips it tightly, holding onto it as if it is his only lifeline, just like she is doing with his. And in that moment, he's certain that whatever waits to face them, whatever terrors lurk outside those heavy mahogany doors, that they'll be ready to face it. Together.

The doors swing open.


	10. In the Midst of the Storm Part 2

**Breaking Point  
>Written by: <strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary: <strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 3,091  
><strong>Note:<strong> Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, the next chapter may be split up into two parts as well. It's turning out a lot longer than I expected.

Please review!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"You can't solve the problems of one world with the ideas of another."<br>- _D. Hansen_

* * *

><p>The sky is bleeding.<p>

Heavy, bruised storm clouds race towards them from East, West, North and South, meeting at an epicenter to the North. The sun is setting in the South, an interesting effect from being in Olivia's mind, staining the clouds above with reds and oranges and golds. Lightning and thunder flash and rumble, the ground in tremors below their feet.

Olivia's grip tightens and he squeezes her hand reassuringly in response.

Projections line the walkway from the Department of Defense Headquarters and they turn their heads in unison to look at them, their eyes threatening though they do not attack. They just stare menacingly, as if daring them to move.

William and Walter are outside waiting and join up with the others as they make their way down the path away from the Statue of Liberty and towards their destination - the epicenter of the storm.

* * *

><p>It isn't just the fact that a storm that used to be centered at the Statue of Liberty is now located here that makes the epicenter so strange – it's the fact that the Twin Towers keep flickering, disappearing to be replaced by two powerful beams of light of memorial one moment to be solidly standing the next.<p>

Peter stares at the sight for a moment, confused by the flickering before Walter speaks in explanation. "Incredible. Both Olivia's are fighting for control of this one space, but they are too evenly matched. Neither can exert power over the other and the mind doesn't know which one to mold itself after."

At the base of the sometimes-towers, the Second Olivia stands, red hair blowing in the fierce wind. She sneers as the five draw closer, a small group of familiar people surrounding her.

Charlie Francis, Lincoln Lee and Broyles stand behind her, their features slightly altered from what Peter is familiar with. Their faces are scarred and hard and intimidating, with dark eyes and curled fists. There's a fourth man who stands close to Fauxlivia, a man he doesn't recognize, but simply by their body language, he can tell the two are together.

Fauxlivia walks forward to meet them, her steps slow and threatening. Olivia mirrors her doppelganger's movement, the two of them meeting in the middle of the street, the Towers and lights flickering above them.

Standing across from each other, Olivia looks weak compared to her doppelganger. Fauxlivia stands taller, her light eyes narrowed, conveying a strong sense of power. But as they stare each other down, Peter can see Olivia straightening and knows that Walter's plan is working – the Cortexiphan is giving her the strength she needs to fight and regain her mind.

He sees Fauxlivia raise a hand and gesture crudely between Olivia and himself as she says something, but the wind whips the words away before they can reach him. But even though he can't hear, he knows the words were cruel and meant to cut Olivia down, as her pose falters slightly under their weight.

* * *

><p>"You know what the mind-reader said," Fauxlivia sneers, waving between Peter and Olivia. "You know your relationship with him is because of me. He's only with you because he still has feelings for <em>me<em>."

Olivia feels the blow from her words and staggers slightly beneath them, the weight of a truth she's tried hard to ignore almost crushing her. She knows what Simon Philips said, knows that he saw feelings for _her_ in Peter's mind.

But a wave of strength surges through her and she reminds herself that this isn't about Peter or their relationship. It's about saving herself.

"He came for me," Fauxlivia is saying, her eyes hard. "He wants me to win this fight. He doesn't love you, pretty little Olive."

Olivia shakes her head, jerking her chin towards the men gathered around her alternate. "No. _They_ came for you." She can see Frank's and Lincoln's shoulders tense. "But they're not really here, are they? They're just a part of your mind. Because they don't really care about you, do they? You know that just as well as I do."

Fauxlivia yells and hurtles herself at Olivia, the men behind her following her lead.

The two groups clash together, projection battling presence, mind against mind.

But as soon as Fauxlivia and Olivia meet, they disappear. Peter shouts as they vanish, but Lincoln Lee's fist connects with his jaw before he can do anything else.

* * *

><p>Olivia is thrown backwards as Fauxlivia tackles her but instead of landing on the hard, rough concrete of the street, she finds herself tumbling over a table, glass test tubes and beakers shattering beneath her weight. She can feel the sharp sting of the glass as it slices into her back, but she doesn't show any pain to her alternate as they roll off the table and to the floor.<p>

Olivia throws her opponent off her as soon as solid ground is beneath her, scrambling to her feet as Fauxlivia recovers swiftly, eyes blazing, ready to fight to the end.

* * *

><p>Peter somehow knows that the battle between Olivia and her doppelganger has been moved to the lab. He doesn't have a chance to question his newfound knowledge, however, as Lincoln continues to throw punch after punch at him. Peter tries to dodge the other man's blows but a few still hit their target, sending him reeling.<p>

He retaliates as quickly as he can, landing a hit to the side of Lincoln's head, near the man's temple. He takes the moment he gets to check on the others when Lincoln steps back for a quick respite. Walter is grappling with Alternate Charlie Francis as Bell fights Alt-Broyles. John swings at the man whom Peter doesn't recognize, the one who clearly has feelings for Fauxlivia. Normally, Walter and Bell would be no match for Charlie and Broyles, but Peter suspects that since they are projections of Fauxlivia's mind, they are only as strong as Fauxlivia can afford them to be.

Peter desperately hopes that by their fighting Fauxlivia's projections, they'll be able to give Olivia an edge. Any small amount of purchase that can give her the upper hand.

Lincoln tackles him then, throwing them both to the ground. His hard fists begin pummeling Peter. He covers his face to protect himself and when there's a lag in Lincoln's blows, manages to land a hit on him, snapping his head back and giving Peter a chance to breathe.

And Peter hopes that, whatever is happening with Olivia right now, she is doing better than him.

* * *

><p>The chair crumples under her weight as Fauxlivia slams her against it. A sharp pain jolts through her wrist and she cradles it against her body, cringing as she accidentally jostles it. Staggering to her feet, she stands across the lab from her double, both their chests heaving. It's hard to tell who's worse off at this point. There's a dark gash across Fauxlivia's forehead, blood trickling down her face and matting in her red hair. More cuts mar her bare arms and blood stains her shirt. Besides the cuts Olivia already had, more scratches cross her face and deep gashes line her back from the glass. She isn't sure, but she's almost certain her wrist is broken. She can feel blood dripping down her face from a cut near her eyebrow and impatiently wipes the liquid away from her eyes.<p>

She knows that there's a gun in her office, has been slowly trying to make her way towards the room since their battle began. But the timing is difficult, as the lab flashes between her world and _her world._

But for every movement that brings her one step closer to the office, Fauxlivia moves her one step back. With a pang of what feels like homesickness, she realizes what Walter would say about their dance: "For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction."

Fauxlivia stalks closer to her, like a lioness stalking her prey. Olivia can see a slight limp in the woman's step and smiles at the injury despite the deadly glint in her eye.

"I know what you're doing, little Olive. I've seen your darkest thoughts; I know your deepest fears. I've witnessed your secrets and lies. I know everything there is to know about you. I _am_ you, Olive. We are one and the same." She gives a scathing laugh. "And I know what you have hidden in that office. A gun won't help you much here, Olive. Especially if you can't even get to it."

She pulls her arm back, punching Olivia square in the jaw. A thick, metallic taste fills her mouth with the blood. She staggers back, stumbling into the broken chair, raising her uninjured wrist to her already bruised jaw.

Olivia lunges herself at her alternate, Cortexiphan and adrenaline filling her as her fists connect once more with their mark.

* * *

><p>Peter falls to the ground, scraping his hands and glancing around as Lincoln stands gloating over him. Walter has fallen at the hands of Charlie and William struggles to overcome Broyles. John's the only one who is faring well, standing over his unconscious opponent. The former FBI Agent comes over to help Peter, but he waves him away, pointing towards Walter. "Help him!"<p>

John nods as Peter gets to his feet, swinging at Lincoln with a strong forward momentum, but the other man easily sidesteps the blow, turning Peter's momentum against him as he throws him to the ground.

Kicking out a leg, Peter sweeps Lincoln's feet out from beneath him, tackling him as his opponent stumbles to the ground. He can feel blood dripping down the side of his face but ignores it as he lands blow after blow to Alternate Lincoln's chest. After a few hard blows to the other man's head, Peter sits back as Lincoln slips into unconsciousness.

Peter struggles to his feet and goes to help Bell. And even though two of their opponents are down, Peter can't help but feel that they are fighting a losing battle.

* * *

><p>The office is only a few feet away but it seems like miles. Fauxlivia has a metal rod in her hand from one of Walter's various instruments and as she stumbles towards her, Olivia knows that she means to kill. She moves backwards, feeling a sting in her chest from what she assumes are broken ribs.<p>

Fauxlivia lunges at her, slamming Olivia into the ground. A sharp pain shoots through her hip and leg, causing Olivia to cry out in pain. She scoots back into her office as Fauxlivia reaches the door. Gripping the frame and the door, the other woman swings the door shut but Olivia's ankle stops it from closing. She screams as it's caught between the door and the frame, a sharp crack that isn't from the door accompanying her shout.

* * *

><p>Alt-Charlie and Broyles are strong. Peter has no clue how Walter and Bell held them off for as long as they did, but the two men are weak now. John fights with Walter against Alt-Charlie and Peter moves to help William. But as he does, the sky bellows at them. The clouds part, opening the mouth of the sky. Thunder roars at them again and lightning strikes down around them, the Towers above them switching from light to solidity at the pace of a high-powered strobe light. Peter, John, Walter and William move together tightly, forming a protective group just as Fauxlivia's projections do the same, Lincoln and the man whose name Peter suddenly knows is Frank joining them, even though they were unconscious moments earlier.<p>

"Walter," Peter breathes, chest heaving as he looks towards the sky and the Twin Towers. "What's happening?"

"Someone's winning," the scientist pants, bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees. William rests a comforting hand on his friend's back.

"Who?" Peter's tone is sharp and impatient as another crack of thunder fills the air. "Walter, who is winning?"

The elder man looks at him but doesn't answer, his chest heaving instead as he stares at his son, gray eyes wide with fear and anxiety.

"We can't be sure, Peter," William answers at Walter's lack of words. "Look at the Towers. Whichever world they resemble will be the world of the Olivia that's winning."

Peter looks at the Towers, which still flicker high above them. "They don't look like either side."

"An even match," Walter breathes, straightening, staring at the Towers. "We won't know which wins until it's over."

"When will that be?"

Walter turns to him. "When someone wins."

* * *

><p>The door rebounds open with a crack as it hits the wall behind it. Olivia has managed to scramble a few feet inside the office before it happens. Alternate Olivia stands on the threshhold of the doorway, red hair wild, blood on her face and caked in her hair. Her chest is heaving as she stares down at Olivia, clearly favoring her right leg. She limps forward as Olivia scrambles back, eyes flickering around the room as she searches for the gun she knows is hidden in here.<p>

"Olive," Fauxlivia breathes, struggling to mask the pain in her voice and just barely managing to keep the sadistic glint in it. "Why don't you just give up, pretty little Olive? You'll never be able to beat me." She's panting, giving her words a different effect than if she weren't so winded. "You're far to weak to beat me."

Olivia sneers at her. "Seems like I'm doing a pretty god job so far."

Fauxlivia begins to pace, the heavy limp in her step more than enough to be satisfactory for Olivia. As her enemy paces, Olivia rummages around the drawers in her desk, searching for her gun.

"You know the truth about Peter," Fauxlivia is saying, stumbling against a stack of boxes. "You know he doesn't love you."

"You have Frank," Olivia retorts, shuffling around in one of the drawers as the lab and the desk flickers between her world and Their's. "And Lincoln. Why do you need Peter too?"

Fauxlivia gives a sharp laugh, which quickly turns into a deep cough, blood thick in her mouth. "I want anything that makes you _you_," she says, turning to look at Olivia just as her fingers close on the gun in the desk. "I want to take away everything you have to live for, pretty little Olive. I want to destroy you completely. I want to take away any reason you have to live. So that you won't."

Her movements are quick as she pulls the gun from the desk, just as Fauxlivia pulls her hand out from behind her back. Two black barrels of the guns stare each other down as green eyes meet green eyes, dark meets light, and universe meets universe.

"You think you're the only one that can hide guns in here?" Fauxlivia asks, her bloody mouth quirking up at the corner. It is at that moment that Olivia realizes what happened. When her opposite stumbled against the boxes, she grabbed her weapon hidden there. Her pacing had just been for show, to bring her to the gun, to prepare herself for the fight she must've known was coming.

Chests heaving as they stare each other down, the two are silent, keeping their guns steadily aimed at the other.

"Are you going to shoot first, Olivia? Or should I?"

A shot rings out.

* * *

><p>The sky is bleeding. Peter stares up at the Twin Towers, willing them to disappear, willing the powerful beams of light to take their place permanently, for the Towers to disappear, though the sight of them gone once more tugs at his heartstrings after seeing them again.<p>

Silence has fallen over the groups as they watch the Towers and Lights, the beacons that symbolize whoever wins the war. Thunder cracks overhead like the crack of a whip, a small sonic boom erupting as the sound barrier is broken. A lighting strike hits the ground nearby, exploding a section of the asphalt. Walter and William jump at the explosion but Peter remains stoically silent, a sentinel watching the Towers with a fierce concentration.

He doesn't know how close he is to the lab where Olivia fights her alternate, but he's certain he isn't too far away when the gunshot rings out, echoing off the Towers and resounding around them. His eyes never leave the sight before him as he wills them to be the lights of memorial and not the Towers.

And then the world goes dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm not that good with fight scenes and I don't know how well this turned out. Please review and let me know if I did it justice or not! Constructive criticism is always welcome!


	11. Repercussions Part 1

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,703  
><strong>Note:<strong> Sorry, but this chapter has been split up. I've also deviated completely from my outline, so I apologize if things get a little choppy.

Any feedback would be wonderful!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"Do you know what it's like to wake up and, just for a moment, think that everything is as it was? Then to realize that it's not, that the nightmare you had was real?"<br>-_ Secretary Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>Peter's eyes open slowly. The room is lit, the bright light blinding. Peter blinks rapidly a few times, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the light. After blinking away his sleep, he takes in his surroundings, confusion washing over him.<p>

The room is painted a soft, off-white. A single stripe of blue paint breaks up the walls into two parts about two-thirds of the way up, a small, pathetic attempt at taking away monotony. Two large photographs adorn the walls, soothing landscapes held within their dark frames.

A hotel or a hospital are the only explanations.

A soft beeping reaches him then, taking away any confusion he had moments earlier. A hospital, then. He's in the hospital.

Peter stirs as he struggles to remember what happened, what landed him in the hospital. Moments of the fight come back to him, flashes of what happened just seconds before he woke up here. Walter, William, John. Charlie, Broyles Frank. Olivia. Fauxlivia. A gunshot, the world plunging into darkness. Olivia. Walter. Olivia. Walter. _Olivia._

He bolts upright, the movement sending a splitting pain through his head. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he raises a hand to his head and settles back in the bed, eyes shut tight against the aching.

"Careful." A voice reaches him through the haze and Peter cracks his eyes open, searching for the source. "You gave us quite a scare, son."

There. A man, sitting in a chair against the wall of the room. His face is warm, something familiar in his expression, though Peter can't quite place where he knows it from. The man's features are unfamiliar, but his eyes – there's a twinkle in his gray eyes he swears he recognizes.

"Us?" Peter asks, his voice thick with sleep. "What, you got a mouse in your pocket or are you just schizophrenic?"

The man chuckles and leans forwards, eyes crinkling with humor. "Clever, Peter. No, your father and I. You worried us."

Peter sucks in a breath of air, holding it for a moment as he remembers the battle, how bravely Walter fought with Alternate Charlie Francis. How Alt-Lincoln almost beat him, how John knocked out Frank just moments before the world went dark.

"Where's… Walter?" Peter asks, voice raspy, quiet. Weakly, he reaches out with one hand to the glass of water that rests on the table beside his bed, but the man sees his movement. He's quicker, grabbing the cool glass before Peter can.

"He's fine." The man takes a drink. "We were more worried about you.

Peter scrutinizes the man, still unable to place him. "Who the hell are you?"

The man feigns shock, bringing a hand to his chest. "Peter! I'm hurt! I thought you would recognize me. My body may be different, but I'm the same mad old scientist on the inside."

Peter narrows his eyes at him and is finally able to recognize the man's expression the one he was struggling to place. The familiarity about the man gives away his identity.

"Bell," he rasps, coughing weakly. "You bastard."

Bell laughs, the loud, sharp sound grating against Peter's ears, causing him to wince.

"You were always so tough, Peter. You always deflected. You are so much like your father."

Peter ignores Bell's words. "Where's Walter? Where's Olivia?"

Bell drops his gaze to the glass in his hand, his expression indecipherable. Panic settles into Peter's chest at Bell's silence, his sudden reluctance to talk raising his anxiety.

"Bell. Where. Is. Olivia?"

Bell shakes his head. "She isn't well, Peter. She was under for a very long time. The Cortexiphan and anesthetic were mixed in her bloodstream the entire time. It was a poison, Peter. You know that. Walter believes that the antitoxin was either not strong enough or administered too late."

"William." Peter cuts him off. "Where?"

Bell sighs and gets to his feet, stumbling slightly as he moves to the door and calls for a nurse. He smiles as he turns back to Peter, the grin chilling him to the bone, out of place on the friendly features of Bell's host. "Still need to get a little used to my new body."

* * *

><p>The wheelchair squeaks slightly as the nurse wheels Peter down the hall to Olivia's room.<p>

Walter stands from his place at her bedside, rushing to Peter and checking him over as he enters the room, hands fluttering over his face and body. "Oh, son. I wasn't sure if you were going to be okay."

"What do you mean, Walter?"

Walter looks up at Bell, confused. "You didn't tell him, Belly?"

Bell shrugs. "I didn't get the chance, He demanded to be taken to Olivia."

Peter cranes his head, trying to see past Walter, to get a glimpse of Olivia. "Tell me what, Walter?"

Walter positions himself in front of Peter and for the first time, Peter looks, really looks at his father. He has a black eye and a cut traces across his cheek. His arm is in a sling, bandages wrapped around it. "Walter, what happened to you?"

Walter sighs. "The fight in Olivia's mind. Our consciousness couldn't decipher the dreamscape from reality. When our consciousness were injured in her mind, our physical bodies would be injured as well. Any lacerations or bruises or wounds that would happen there, would also happen here." He hangs his head. "As it turns out, we weren't nearly as safe as I thought we were."

Peter lifts a hand to Walter's shoulder, noticing how stiff his movements are, that his hands are bandaged and his shoulder aches, and that there's a strange stretching in his knuckles when he flexes his hand, and effect he recognizes to be from stitches. He knows now that the throbbing in his head isn't from his movements or from pushing himself too hard after first waking, but are from the beating the took at the fists of Alternate Lincoln.

Then he remembers the gunshot he heard just before the end, before he woke in the hospital. "Olivia. Oh my God, Olivia." Dread fills him and he struggles to his feet, suddenly furious at the wheelchair, at his pathetic inability to walk. He pushes away the hands of Walter and the nurse as they try to restrain him, his vision tunneling so he can only see Olivia's bed before him. He stumbles over to the bed, the sight of her lying there tearing his heart apart.

She's deathly pale, her blonde hair almost dark against the pallor of her skin. There's a dark purple bruise around her eye and another one lining her jaw. Three long gashes line her cheeks, the same ones that marked her face in the cell. The black marker that once traced a path for a bone saw is gone now, though Peter isn't sure if the doctors wiped it away or if they were gone before she returned home. A dark cut slices through her eyebrow and a few smaller scratches line her face.

Her wrist is in a splint and there's a white cast on her ankle. From where her gown has slipped off her shoulder, Peter can see more deep lacerations on her back, along with angry purple and black bruises.

Peter reaches out slowly, gently pushing her hair back from her face, his eyes darting between hers as he prays for her to wake up.

"'Livia," he breathes, leaning against her bed for support, his head drooping. "Please, Liv. Wake up. I need you. I can't do this without you. I can't live without you." He removes his hand from her forehead, gripping her bandaged hand in his rough palms, bringing it to his lips. He can feel himself breaking down in front of her, can feel the dams overflowing as every emotion from the past few days bursts through the levees, flooding his body and leaving him exhausted.

"Please, Olivia," he whispers, eyes beginning to water as he drops his forehead to their joined hands. "Please."

But she doesn't stir under his hands, remaining unconscious, unresponsive to his touch and words.

"Oh, God. Liv."

A new voice reaches him, thick with emotion. Peter raises his head from their hands to locate the source, his hand clenching tighter around Olivia's as he recognizes the speaker.

Rachel stands in the doorway to the room, eyes wide as she takes in the scene before her. She moves forward slowly, revealing a shocked Ella trailing behind her.

Peter's heart wrenches at the sight of them and he moves away from Olivia, giving his family a chance to be close to her.

Rachel takes Olivia's uninjured hand in her own, eyes soft as she raises her other hand to her sister's face, gently tracing the scratches on her cheek and stroking her hairline with her thumb.

Ella stands on the other side of the bed, watching her aunt with wide eyes. Peter can tell from the look in them that she's just willing her aunt to wake up, for her eyes to open, to tell her that everything is going to be alright. When nothing happens, she looks to her mother. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Rachel smiles weakly at her. "I hope so, baby. I hope so." She reaches over to grab Ella's free hand, still holding Olivia's. The two are silent for a moment, praying for their sister and aunt to get better, a lonely vigil.


	12. Repercussions Part 2

**Breaking Point  
>Written by:<strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary:<strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 2,477  
><strong>Note:<strong> The second part of chapter 10! Sorry to keep splitting these chapters up on you; I've just been trying to keep a consistent chapter length, which is much harder than I thought.

I also have an important question for you: there are two distinctly different ways for this story to end, one of which wraps thing up nicely, the other which sets the entire story up for a sequel. And I am leaving it up to you to decide which way to end this. If there is a sequel, there'll be two more chapters, but it'll probably be a while until I can get the sequel up, especially since I'm leaving for Germany in two weeks. If I just end it, there'll be three to four more chapters. Please let me know which one you guys want!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"Today is the day for which you were created."<br>-_ Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>After a few minutes of silence, Rachel releases their hands and turns to Peter, beckoning him towards her as she leaves the room. Peter limps after her, already knowing what's going to happen next.<p>

They stand outside the room, Rachel with her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. "Peter, what the hell happened? The doctor said she was in a car accident, but you and I both know very well that's not true. Those injuries are from a fight, Peter. They were deliberate. I only let you take her from the institute because you promised she would be safe." She's angry, her voice raising to a shout at the end of her words as she lifts a hand to poke Peter angrily in the chest. He understands though and, despite the pain, doesn't defend himself in any way as Rachel's pokes turn into hits and she begins to pound weakly on his chest, her anger subsiding to tears as she begins to sob. "You promised she would be safe."

She breaks down completely and collapses into him, gripping his shoulders for support. Even though he's weak from the ordeal, he supports her, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and embracing her tightly as she sobs into his shoulder, clinging to her as she clings to him, as if they are each other's last hope.

"You promised." Her words are less than a whisper, almost inaudible in the hospital's hallway.

She eventually exhausts herself and releases him, collapsing onto a bench in the hall with a heavy sigh. Peter takes a seat next to her and begins to explain, his words soft and gentle. He owes her an explanation after all she's been through with her sister, owes her this after everything that's happened to their family. He tells her about the Other side, about how he was stolen away in the night in a last ditch attempt to save his life. About how the Other Side began to fall apart after that day, leading to the chain of events that have brought them here today.

He tells her about the Cortexiphan trials and the daycare in Florida, how his father (not his real father) experimented on children, Olivia included, and gave them abilities they never would've been able to possess otherwise.

He tells her about John Scott, about the events that brought the Fringe Division together. About John's accident, the one that forced Olivia into a state of shared consciousness with him. About the part of John's mind that merged with hers, beginning the downward spiral that would lead to where they are today.

He tells her about Massive Dynamic and William Bell and Nina Sharp, about the Observers and the Pattern. About Bell's leaving Their Side to try and fix the Other.

He tells her about the first time Olivia crossed over, how Bell pulled her from her car, just milliseconds before a collision. She returned to the scene and hour later, crashing through the windshield, explaining how she ended up in a coma in the hospital more than a year ago.

He tells her about his discovery of the truth about his origins on the Other Side, how he went home to try and mend both Universes. About how Olivia risked her life to cross over and save his. How they returned at William Bell's sacrifice. How his and Olivia's relationship progressed from there.

He tells her about the subtle differences he had noticed in her, how he attributed them to their new relationship and nothing more.

He tells her about Olivia's entrapment on the Other Side, how she was injected with the memories of her alternate, how she suffered at the hands of his real father, all because she wanted to bring him home.

He tells her about Olivia's return home and how her doppelganger escaped them when she did.

He tells her about the war that commenced between the Universes, about shapeshifters and wormholes and tears in the very fabric of the Universe.

He tells her about the soul magnet William Bell implanted inside her when she first crossed over, insurance for his life after death. About how when the bell was rung and the trigger activated, Bell's mind invaded Olivia's, pushing her to the breaking point as three consciences resided in a space made for one.

He tells her about his and Walter's journey into her mind, how they witnesses her memories and how the mind of her alternate was fighting to take over. How she tried to suppress and destroy Olivia's mind forever.

He tells her how the Cortexiphan they gave her for strength mixed with the sedative created a toxin to Olivia's body, but how neither Walter nor Bell nor himself know if it was the toxin or Olivia's doppelganger that left her in a coma-like state in the room beside them.

He tells her Walter's and Bell's theory about the injures they all sustained in the world of Olivia's mind, attributing Olivia's injuries to the battle she fought with her alternate, though none of them witnessed the fight.

By the end of his story, Rachel is staring into the space before her, eyes unfocused, disbelief suspended on her face. She opens and shuts her mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Peter gently places a hand on her arm. "I know it's a lot to take in."

Rachel nods and turns to look at him, finally managing to form words. "You and Liv are . . . together?"

Forget the fact that Peter could be thrown into jail by the FBI for revealing so much confidential information to a civilian – all Rachel seems to really care about is the fact that Olivia and Peter are finally dating.

Peter chuckles. "Yeah. But I'll have to tell you that story some other time."

He reaches over and takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Don't worry, Rachel. Olivia's been through worse than this before. She'll get through it."

But even as he says it, Peter's heart isn't convinced.

A doctor interrupts them then, eyeing the chart in front of him warily. "Ms. Dunham?" He asks, glancing between the two.

Rachel nods unenthusiastically, her head low, not meeting the doctor's gaze. "Yes?"

"I need you speak with you about your sister's condition."

"Okay."

The doctor glances nervously at Peter, his voice low as he speaks, as if Peter won't hear him. "I believe this is a matter that is best discussed in private."

Rachel raises her head sharply, green eyes steely. In that moment, Peter is struck by how much she looks like her sister, with the same blazing eyes and fierce determination. "He's been through just as much as she has. He stays."

The doctor nods, taking in Peter's hospital gown and bandages with trepidation. Raising the chart before him, he begins to speak, his voice falling into the careful monotone of someone about to give bad news.

"As you know, your sister was in an accident." Rachel scoffs at this, but the doctor continues uninterrupted. "It appears as if she was not wearing a seat belt and was thrown from the vehicle, causing her dislocated hip and fractured wrist. We believe that her ankle was somehow caught in the car when the accident occurred, causing it to fracture. She also has three broken ribs, but other than that she is stable. She lost a lot of blood, but transfusions were made."

The doctor looks between them, making sure they understand his words. He can tell that they do and he clears his throat. Peter knows that's not the worst of her condition.

"We found some…interesting things when we did a tox-screen, however." Rachel's hands tighten. "She had a toxin in her system, Ms. Dunham. It appeared as if an antitoxin had been administered, but it didn't fully counter the effects of the toxin."

"Is that why she's still unconscious?" Rachel's voice cracks, tight with worry.

The doctor shakes his head. "No, but it certainly isn't helping her condition." He takes a deep breath, preparing them and himself for the break. "Ms. Dunham, you're sister has no brain activity."

Rachel takes in a sharp breath and slumps forward, her eyes filling up with tears as she stares at the doctor in disbelief. "What?"

"Your sister is brain-dead."

"I know what no brain activity means, you idiot." Her voice is sharp, pierced with anguish and sorrow. She lowers her head into her hands, cradling it as she begins to cry.

"Ms. Dunham, you're sister has a living will. She doesn't want to be on life support when there's no brain activity."

Though Rachel doesn't raise her head, Peter can tell she's crying, but her voice is still strong. "No. I'm overruling it. She stays on life support."

The doctor reaches out a hand, offering her a tissue. "Ms. Dunham, I know this is hard but I have to ask. Was your sister doing any drugs or on any experimental medication?"

Rachel's shoulders tense and her crying stops as anger over such a ridiculous accusation washing through her instead. She raises her head and opens her mouth to speak, but Peter stops her with a look.

He rests an arm over her shoulders comfortingly, squeezing her arm with his other hand. "I think you better leave," he says to the doctor.

"But—"

Peter shakes his head. "Go."

The doctor hurries away, glancing back at Rachel's steely glare once more before disappearing around the corner.

Rachel's head collapses into her hands once more and Peter keeps his arm around her, lending silent comfort as she weeps. They stay like that for a minute or so before her tears finally begin to subside. Peter speaks, his voice low. "I need to talk to Walter. Are you going to be okay?"

Rachel sniffles and nods, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes, the green more brilliant in them. "Thanks, Peter."

He smiles at her as he stands. "I'll send Ella out."

Walter stands nervously off to one side of the room as Ella chats animatedly to her aunt, despite the fact that Olivia probably can't hear a word she says. The older gentleman wrings his hands together as Peter gently tells Ella to go to her mother and the girl leaves the room, leaving the Bishops and Bell behind.

Peter's gaze is icy as he looks at Walter. "What happened, Walter? Why isn't she okay?"

Walter trembles slightly and Bell answers for him, his words careful. "You knew the risks when we decided to try this, Peter. You knew that she might not make it."

Peter glowers at him for a moment. "You never told me that she could end up _brain-dead._"

Bell stands. "The risks and complications were explained to you. You have no reason to be upset with us."

Peter stalks towards him. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? You know she wouldn't make it. But you wanted your own body and you're too damn selfish to do anything that would hurt you at all." His voice raises, escalating to a shout. "You did this to her! You bastard!"

Bell chuckles softly, his calm reception only serving to fuel Peter's anger further.

"Son, please." Walter's voice is soft, fear laced in his words. "It wasn't our fault."

Peter wheels on him, eyes blazing. "What?"

Walter stands. "She wasn't strong enough. We'd let it go too far before we helped her. We should've stepped in sooner."

Peter's fists tighten. "We should've given her more Cortexiphan, then."

Walter shakes his head. "It wouldn't have worked. If we gave her more Cortexiphan, the toxin would've acted quicker. There wouldn't have been enough time for the drug to take effect. She would've died before she even got the chance to fight."

William nods in agreement. "A paradox."

Peter turns from them, dejected, towards Olivia's bed. He reaches out to smooth her hair, eyes watering as he looks her, taking in her injuries, her lifelessness. He leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Liv. I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

><p>The world is bleak. No light permeates her surroundings. She cannot see. She does not know where she is, only that it is dark, so very dark. Even as her eyes try to adjust to the lack of light, it makes no difference.<p>

She is floating in a sea of nothing.

Olivia can't feel anything; the nothing isn't just a lack of light, it's a lack of any stimulus. No pain, no sense of touch, no sound, no scents. Nothing. It's as if she's back in the sensory deprivation tank, but on a much, much larger scale.

And it terrifies her.

She feels panic settle into her chest, clawing at her bruised and broken ribs, tearing her from the inside out until it bursts forth from her mouth in a guttural, primal scream.

And then all is silent.

And there is nothing.


	13. Interlude

**Breaking Point  
>Written by: <strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary: <strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 385  
><strong>Note:<strong> An interlude. I know it's short, but it's the best way I could work things out. Enjoy!

I always love hearing what you think!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"We all love somebody who's dying."<br>- _Peter Bishop_

* * *

><p>The apartment is silent. In all her years of knowing Olivia, of training under her, Astrid doesn't think she's ever seen this place so...empty. Granted, she'd only been there once or twice before, but it's still a difficulty to cope with, the hollowness of her home.<p>

The furniture is still there - people are far more interested in apartments that come fully furnished then those that don't after all - but all her personal effects are gone. Everything that made this place _Olivia's_ is gone, boxed up and taken away. Astrid isn't sure what will be done with all of it - turns out, Olivia had a _lot_ of stuff - but it doesn't really matter. What matters is the fact that it's gone.

A small shuffling sounds behind her, causing Astrid to turn and locate the source. Lincoln stands there and walks forward to move past her into the apartment, grabbing the last box on the counter. "Is this everything?"

Astrid finds herself nodding. "That's the last of it."

Lincoln makes his way out of the apartment with the box, struggling slightly with its weight. Astrid takes one last look at the apartment, the sight a powerful reminder to what they've lost. To what they've all lost.

"You coming?" Lincoln has stopped in the middle of the pathway, looking back towards her as she stands in the doorway. Astrid smiles softly at him. "Yeah." She shuts the door, closing this chapter on Olivia's life.

* * *

><p>The door to heaven, as it turns out, is not as she expected. It is not a stairway into the sky. It is not an archway of clouds. It is not a set of golden gates in the sky. It isn't even a pathway into the woods or an arch of ferns.<p>

Perhaps the gate to heaven is different for each person. Perhaps it molds itself for the individual that stands before it, presenting itself as the most comforting entryway for them.

For Olivia, it is a door. A single red door in a sea of green ones. It is bright and familiar and warm_._ She reaches forward to the golden knob and twists it, the door swinging open at her touch.

And she is home. Olivia is finally home.


	14. Requiem

**Breaking Point  
>Written by: <strong>Addie Price  
><strong>Summary: <strong>'It was a war, Peter. And every war has its casualties. I'm just sorry it had to be Olivia who was made to suffer.' Everybody has a breaking point. And Olivia may have just met hers.  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1,334  
><strong>Note: <strong>You guys voted for a sequel and so a sequel you shall get. Unfortunately, a sequel means that this is the last chapter and I am apologizing in advance for the way this has to end in order to keep it going.

A huge thanks goes out to everyone who stuck with me through this! I hope you've all had as much fun reading this as I had writing it!

As always, please review!

Rated T for brief language and my own paranoia.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> FRINGE is the property of FOX Broadcasting Company and its associates. I am in no way affiliated with FOX nor do I own any of the characters depicted in this story.

* * *

><p>"When you open doors, there is a price to pay."<br>_- Walter Bishop_

* * *

><p>Heaven is much darker than she expected.<p>

It's also colder. And far less comfortable.

She can tell that she's laying down, the surface beneath her soft but uncomfortable, the thin sheet covering her barely enough to dull the sharp chill that permeates the air. Vaguely, she wonders whether she's feeling this at all. Maybe the red door didn't lead to heaven but to hell. Maybe she should've gone through one of the green doors instead.

Perhaps it was her lack of faith that brought her here. After all, she'd never been very religious in life. Sure, she'd grown up around churches and worship but after her mother married her stepfather and the events that followed, she lost her passion for faith. And her belief in any higher power began to slip away.

Perhaps she was condemned to hell because she questioned God's existence. But how couldn't she? After everything she's seen, all the knowledge she'd been granted to about alternate universes and wars between parallel worlds. After all the horrific and gruesome events she'd been privy to investigation. After the people she'd killed, all the deaths she'd caused directly or indirectly. After all the things she's experienced, how could she not question the existence of God after that?

How could He expect her to believe in a higher power.

If this is heaven, Olivia decides, then she doesn't want any part of it.

She lays completely still for a full minute, taking in her surroundings and her faculties. There's a dull throbbing ache in her head. She can feel that her muscles are sore without even having to move them, as if she's just run a marathon. Her wrist itches and aches, her hip feels as if it's been yanked from place and a sharp pain shoots through her ankle when she adjusts her foot. Her back is burning and sore.

She can't see anything outside of the sheet covering her and the bed she's laying on. It's too dark. Heaven is too dark.

Her only source of comfort in this dark, black place is a warm pressure on her uninjured hand, a soothing motion tracing over her knuckles repeatedly.

Seeking out the cause for this warm presence, Olivia follows her arm to her hand, surprised to find a second one holding it, the thumb rubbing her knuckles gently, absentmindedly. Her eyes continue their journey, following the arm up to a shoulder and then to a head, resting lightly on the bed.

A man. A man is sleeping in a chair next to her, holding her hand and soothing her with the movements of his thumb.

Slowly, Olivia opens her mouth to speak, her jaw stiff and sore, her throat dry, causing the words to come out as little more than a rasp.

"Who...?" She coughs weakly then tries again. "Where...?"

The head stirs, a small groan emitting from the man as he raises his other hand to wipe at his eyes, never releasing hers.

Olivia tries to repeat her question, only managing to get one word out in her struggle to speak. "Where...?"

The man stiffens at the sound of her voice and turns to face her, eyes wide.

There are a few cuts on his face and a dark bruise along his jaw. His eyes are a brilliant blue, wide with shock and bewilderment as they stare back at her. He doesn't say anything for a moment as he looks at her, as if struggling to understand the situation before him.

Olivia tries to clear her throat and ask her question again, but begins to cough violently instead, the jarring movements sending sharp pains through her chest and ribcage.

The man moves quickly, releasing her hand to grab a cup from the nightstand and hand it to her, his other hand resting on her back to gently move her from her half-sitting position to sitting up so that she can drink properly.

The water is soothing to her rough, sore throat and she takes it in slowly, still trying to make proper sense of everything around her, of this room and the man sitting before her, watching her with concern evident on his face and in his expression. Once she's finished with her drink, she hands the cup back to the man. He sets it on the table and turns back to her, his eyes darting between hers.

"Olivia?" He raises a hand towards her but doesn't touch her, as if afraid that she'll break if he does.

Even after the drink, her voice is still soft, rough. "Yes?"

"What do you remember?"

She drops his gaze, looking down to her hands now folded together on the sheet on her lap. She flexes her wrist, cringing at the pain that shoots through it when she does. "I remember a door," she whispers. "It was dark at first. There was nothing. Nothing at all. But then there was a door. It was red. There were other doors, but they were green. I didn't recognize them." She raises her head to look at him, leveling her eyes with his. "The red door was familiar. I- I think it was the door to heaven. I opened it. And came out here."

Confusion knits his eyebrows together as he stares at her, worry etched into his face.

"Where am I?" she asks.

The man sighs lightly. "You're in the hospital. Olivia, do you remember anything else?"

She shakes her head. "No. Just the nothingness and then the door."

The man takes in a deep breath, his eyes filling with an emotion she doesn't recognize. "Liv, do you remember me?"

She furrows her brow at him. He does look a little familiar to her, his face attached to a warm memory, a dream she once had. But it slips from her grasp like water she's trying to cup in her hands. The harder she tries to hold on, the more it drains away. "No. I'm sorry, I don't remember."

Remorse and sorrow seem to fill the man as he slowly sits back, his eyes never leaving hers as he takes his place once more, sitting vigil at her bedside.

His face is filled with fear as he looks at her and, even though she doesn't know this man, she finds herself wanting to. She finds herself wishing he wasn't afraid.


End file.
